#also it's me so it doesn't need to be said but also this is sfw don't worry

[husbandhoshi]

title: eat. play. love.

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader

wc: 19.4k

summary: being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him.

in which your love language is food. seungcheol doesn't have one.

notes: romcom with mild angst, coworkers!au, slow burn enemies to lovers, playboy!cheol, suggestive (one moment in particular) + mentions of sex (otherwise sfw), swearing, lots of alcohol, also you will probably get hungry reading this. extra special thanks a million times over to my fav person @wuahae for bearing with me through literally all 20k words of this. i love you:')

It's underneath a layer of paper-thin egg yolk pasta where you think you see god.

Spoon meets whipped ricotta, white truffle, sage oil. A sip of 1979 cabernet, punishing and oaky. Rinse and repeat.

None of these words are in the Bible, yet you are having nothing short of a religious experience.

"Well, this seems like good news for the place," Jeonghan says. "Wine's tasty. Three stars?"

At this point, you're fairly sure Jeonghan has tuned the explanation of your elaborate rating process out (he's there for the wine, anyway), so instead you top him up and help yourself to a generous portion of his pappardelle.

"Four, then?" He leans forward on his elbows. "Or critic's choice?"

Candied lemon, pecorino, garlic. Derivative, but it's a good bite.

"You're distracting me." You point your fork at him. "You're like 80% alcohol, anyway. Bad opinions."

"Sue me," he laughs. "I would take a client here, is all I'm saying."

You pass on the opportunity to bring up that Jeonghan once brought a client to a Bubba Gump because he was craving coconut shrimp. But Jeonghan isn't a food critic—he's a business analyst and your best friend from college, back when all you cared about was Friday's house party and writing pizza joint reviews for the university paper.

It's a good arrangement. You appreciate his company, and he's never one to turn down a free meal. The both of you keep a small circle—such is the price of discernment.

There aren't many things that can come between you and a delicious meal. But, you have notifications turned on for just three things (all work-related) and you both watch the linen tablecloth light up under your face-down phone in true horror-movie fashion.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "Popular on a Saturday night," he jokes. "Copy on your ass again?"

"Nothing's in production," you reply, letting the evil claws of your terrible work-life balance encircle you once again as you open your email.

URGENT: LIFESTYLE EDITOR TRANSITIONAL PLANS, it reads. It's from Wonwoo, your editor in chief, who has sent it with priority, as if the caps lock wasn't scary enough.

"So Joshua decided to quit. Just like you said," Jeonghan says, but it's like he's speaking to you through a wet paper bag because it takes every working brain cell of yours to read the email.

As you may know, Joshua has decided to step down from his position as our current Lifestyle editor.

Not a surprise, given his wife is having a kid. You had called it six months ago over the paper's Christmas dinner at Eleven Madison Park, when Joshua spent half of it outside on a phone call and the other half browsing the Baby Gap website.

I have decided to hire internally to fill his position. I and upper management believe you would be a good fit for the position. Please plan for a meeting 9 AM Monday to discuss transitional plans.

It's that part that you have to read over three times. And then you read it over a fourth, just for good measure.

"You're starting to scare me." Jeonghan puts down his glass, which is something akin to a baby separating from their bottle.

Sometimes you need a dictionary to understand Wonwoo, but the email seems clear as day to you. Good fit. Transitional plans. Suddenly you wish Jeonghan hadn't had so much of the wine because you're in desperate need of a drink.

"I-I think…I think I'm getting promoted."

How funny to think your lifelong dream would be realized over a 40 dollar plate of pasta. You want to cry and hug the maître d' and eat the entire complimentary bread basket.

"It's about time." The glass finds his relieved hand again. "You breathe journalism. I'm afraid one day you'll text me in AP style."

You read over all of it again, trying to memorialize the words that undoubtedly will launch your wonderful and long career in the upper echelons of media.

Looking forward to talking with the two of you.

Wait—two?

Then the proverbial cherry on top, the laughably convenient other thing your eyes had glazed over before.

CC: Choi Seungcheol.

"Choi Seungcheol?!"

Nothing is ever that easy and it then dawns on you that this is a competition type thing because never in the history of the printing press has there been two editors for a section.

Jeonghan stares at you blankly. It would be funny if you didn't feel like you were being double deep-fried like terrible fair food, all the thrill and elation of the moment boiled down to lead in your chest.

"I—he," you stammer.

Jeonghan mouths check to the poor waiter assigned to watch your table. God bless him.

"Words," he tells you. "You went to journalism school."

You take a syrupy breath that sits in your lungs unhappily. Your food is cold. This is a disaster.

"Well, actually, I'm not getting promoted."

Jeonghan's eyes soften, just enough without making you pity yourself more.

"There's this guy," you start. "He's the love and relationships columnist, the one I complain about all the time." Jeonghan makes a small ahh sound, your predicament finally dawning on him. "I guess we're both under consideration for the position. I didn't-I didn't even think of him. I—"

You slump into your seat, the arancini your only solace despite your complaint that the breading was too salty earlier.

"So? I bet you're a way better fit than him. It'll be a shoe-in. Easy decision."

Jeonghan's confidence in you makes you want to cry.

The problem is that Seungcheol is the human equivalent of Cosmopolitan Magazine. You can't recall the last time he walked into the office with a fully buttoned up shirt. You also can't recall the last time one of his advice columns wasn't in the end of quarter recap for popularity.

It's not in you to explain this debacle to Jeonghan. This whole situation is so cosmically awful that all you can do is ask for dessert in a takeout box and watch Jeonghan calculate tip without a calculator because that's all you learn in business school.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jeonghan asks when you're both in the Uber.

"Yeah." You have a headache. You also can't decide whether or not to give the restaurant three or four stars, and you always know by the time you're out the door. "It's fine."

The tiramisu is cold in your lap. Jeonghan squeezes your shoulder. You refresh your email.

Choi Seungcheol's name stares back at you.

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The meeting goes exactly how you would expect.

Wonwoo, in his lanky taupe sweater vest, says that Joshua is leaving and you and Seungcheol are standing toe-to-toe in the space left behind.

"I'm sure you two are well-acquainted," he begins.

You stifle a laugh, but Seungcheol's cat-like grimace says more than enough. Neither of you have the heart to tell Wonwoo that your very first impression of Seungcheol was that he tried to hit on you at the new recruit party, or that Joshua probably deserves reparations for how often he mediated fights between the two of you during weekly meetings. (Maybe not reparations, but at least an Edible Arrangements.)

For better or for worse, Wonwoo's genius does not extend to social cues, and he follows with a blithe, "Therefore, I hope you two will treat this as a friendly competition between equals."

You almost laugh again, but this time it's because you need the promotion more than you need air, and you cannot allow some Buzzfeed reject with the face of a model take that from you. And you don't doubt Seungcheol wants it as bad as you do, considering how often you've seen him try to schmooze his way up the ranks.

He may have become a columnist by rubbing elbows with the right people, but you'll never forget the late nights you spent sifting through hours of interview transcripts, on the grueling climb up the totem pole to earn your position.

"We'll evaluate an article of your own submission at the end of the month before we decide. Best of luck."

At least Wonwoo knows to quit while he's ahead—he closes the meeting with a succinct nod before returning to his seemingly infinite unread emails.

"Exciting," Seungcheol says. He claps his hands together, Rolex gaudy under the office lights, and sends a nauseating smile your way. "May the best writer win."

He offers you a handshake. You think he has real life cooties, so instead you close your planner and shoot him a very pointed look.

"There's only one writer here. Thrilled to read your next thinkpiece on how men should spend more time on Tinder and not therapy."

That earns you a chuckle from Wonwoo, but Seungcheol is not easily fazed.

Instead he rushes to hold the door open for you on your way out, likely his favorite piece of advice to give his poor, indolent readers.

"I'll book a table for us at Avra next month," Seungcheol gloats. "Consider it a gift from your future boss."

"They don't have a kids menu, you know."

"No problem. I'll have my darling food critic order for me." He places a wicked hand over his polyester covered heart. "Ending misogyny in one fell swoop, huh?"

You wait for the door to Wonwoo's office to close before looking at him right in his wet, cow eyes with the most malice you can possibly muster. You feel it collect in your bones, enough to feel like you can physically hack it up and hurl it at him.

"You have no clue what you're talking about, huh? Do you actually attract women with that attitude? Or are you just a really good liar?"

You are so close to him, you could kiss him if you wanted—luckily for the both of you, you would rather die a thousand fiery, terrible deaths, and then die all over again. Instead, you watch his pout unravel into a grin from hell, and he leans in closer, the scent of Old Spice and break room coffee heavy on him. This morning's matcha latte churns in your stomach, and you wonder if you should have gotten oatmilk instead of dairy.

Up close, he's worse. His hair reminds you of the sad, tired swoop of the washed-up lead of a daytime soap opera. And he has no pores, which is deeply upsetting because he looks like the type to wash his face with Palmolive and a prayer.

"You know what?"

His breath hits your lips and your skin prickles like you have an allergy.

"What?"

"You just gave me the winning idea for my next column." No way, you think. Mind games. Classy. "See you at dinner, sweetheart. Looking forward to it."

The pet name makes you seethe. There are a million things you want to say, all colorful and none workplace appropriate.

"I'd rather starve."

"Better not let Wonwoo hear you with that bad attitude. I'm sure management loves a team player." His cheshire grin somehow gets bigger, all white teeth and pink lip. "Try to smile a little, huh? Have fun writing about snails and black garlic and cwa-ssants, or whatever it is that you do."

you watch all the laminated syllables of croissant go through his paper shredder smile and you think you black out.

He spins on his heel triumphantly, almost bowling over Minghao from Arts & Entertainment, who is undoubtedly wondering if you did, in fact, kiss.

Seungcheol laughs as he walks away, linebacker shoulders rippling under his one size too small shirt.

The metal-red knot of anger swells in your gut as you watch his perfect silhouette and his tiny little waist disappear into the staff room. Then you realize what you've been looking at and let yourself get mad all over again.

He does have a nice ass, though. You'll give him that.

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"You'll never guess what I have."

"Is it better than this lox bagel?" You answer, mouth unattractively full.

Seungkwan's answer is the sound of a straw hitting the bottom of an empty cup and the grating jostle of ice. Phone calls with him are like ASMR because he's always doing a million things at once, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Infinitely," he finally says, after procuring the last milliliter of what's likely his second coffee of the day. "Besides, we all know pesto is way better."

"Wrong, but okay," you reply. "What is it?"

"You're not gonna thank me for being the best friend in the world? Me, an editor, keeping nepotism alive for you? A mere columnist?"

"Senior columnist," you laugh between bites. "You need me. Who else would you text during content meetings?"

"Whatever." His eye roll is audible. "I guess I won't tell you."

He shakes his cup again, all ice and no patience.

"Fine! I owe you. My career and my life."

"And a seat at Momofuku."

"And that."

You take another greedy bite, letting the everything on an everything bagel get all over your chin. You love dressing up and going to restaurants that cost more than both of your kidneys, but there's something sacred about eating a $10 bagel behind the shield of your computer screen at a cafe where no one knows you.

There's someone laughing really loudly somewhere, and if you weren't otherwise preoccupied, you would look for the offender and give them a hard glare. You don't know what could possibly be that funny at 9 AM, but, then again, you never were a morning person.

"So, I have intel. About Seungcheol." You can picture the glint in Seungkwan's eyes, glittery and caramel. Unfortunately, the news that it's related to your worst enemy makes you sit up a little straighter. "At today's content meeting, Joshua said that he's working on some kind of challenge to go on as many dates as possible. He might make it a series."

"How tacky," you say, but the information clanks around in your brain like shoes in a washing machine. The indulgent, clickbaity headline just falls together perfectly—I Went On 50 First Dates So You Don't Have To. Exactly the kind of article your mom sees on Facebook and sends to you.

"You have to admit it's a decent idea. Not as good as yours, but it'll get engagement," is Seungkwan's reply, but you can barely hear it over the swell of another sitcom-esque laugh, this time, from a woman. "The other editors are very invested in this whole thing, by the way. Of course, I'm betting on you."

You're about to very openly stress about people gambling on your success when your eyes wander to the backside of the Sports Illustrated model getting napkins at the counter. Not bad at all, you think. It may be too early for the comedy club, but appreciating the male figure has no schedule.

And then he turns around, and you're able to see past the curly hair, muscle tee, beauty pageant smile—it's none other than Choi Seungcheol, fully outfitted with the audacity to trespass on your bagel place. You have never been more disgusted by your heterosexuality.

You hide behind your computer screen.

"Helloooo?" comes Seungkwan on the line. "Are you making out with your breakfast or something?"

"Seungkwan, I gotta go," you hiss. Your eyes follow Seungcheol as he makes his way back to his table. "There's a…situation."

You watch him sit across from a beautiful girl in a sundress and Prada sunglasses, and her lips tumble into a brilliant red smile.

It would be really fucking funny if he was on a date, you think, but then you see him make the kind of eyes you last saw in the deepest, stickiest recesses of a frat house on thirsty Thursday. Then you realize he is on a date, that he's been on a date, and it's his laugh that is equally annoying as it is loud.

Seungkwan works hard, but the devil always works harder.

"Ok, talk to you later. Bye!" You can hear the beginning of one of Seungkwan's protests, but you hang up before he's able to properly complain. Maybe you'll have to do a little better than Momofuku—that's a problem for later.

Over the rim of your laptop, you catch glimpses of their conversation. You notice Seungcheol talks a lot with his hands, and you wonder if that's another one of his tips or if that's just him. Him and those big clown hands, illustrating a story that you're unfortunately too far away to hear.

But you can hear her laugh again, and you try to guess what he's talking about. His childhood dog. The insurmountable burden of being prom king and captain of the football team. This little not-competition and this little not-rivalry between the two of you. How the PB&J bagel is the best thing on the menu (it's not, but you see the berry compote all over his fingers and you know that's the hill he's dying on).

No matter how you spin it, it's a hard pill to swallow. Choi Seungcheol is good at what he does, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You hear the careening lilt of what seems to be Seungcheol whining, and there's a brief flash of something like endearment in your stomach before the repulsion sets in.

Nothing you can do to stop him, huh?

The question, sinister and burning, writhes in your brain as you chew on the ice from your coffee and stare at a blank Word document, the cursor blinking like a heartbeat.

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Beware the wrath of a woman scorned.

It's number 3 on Seungcheol's article titled Revenge and Other Stories. Unsurprisingly, he must not practice what he preaches, because you currently have all nine circles of Dante's Inferno inside you right now.

Play nice, Jeonghan had told you. Looks better to upper management.

And you did, until one of your photo requests mysteriously got deleted. Then Joshua told you to cut 500 words from this week's column because Seungcheol's just "happened" to be a little longer this time.

The knockout punch was yesterday when Seungcheol told you he was using your January critic's choice pick to take Wonwoo out for a friendly dinner, his treat. If you had known, you would've called ahead and told them to poison the hamachi. (No matter. Any foodie worth their salt knows Thursday is the worst day for sushi).

Now you sit on the C train, dressed to the nines, because you have a date with destiny at Nai. Sometimes destiny is a big pan of paella for one, but this time, it's Seungcheol and his next victim on date night.

Getting him there was so easy, it was almost criminal. An obnoxiously loud elevator phone call in which you name dropped the executive chef, a friend of yours, at least four times. Seungkwan very strategically asking you if a press pass can bypass reservations for a booked-out restaurant. Gossip in the break room with the intentional use of "intimate," "sangria drunk," and "affordable."

Affordable was a lie, but you're learning quickly that a hungry fish will take any bait. And seeing Seungcheol's face is never a joy, but you're not opposed to watching him open the menu for the first time.

"I have a killer Spanish accent," Seungcheol told you on the way out today.

Hook, line, and sinker.

The subway car rumbles under you. You're almost in East Village. You don't normally spend your Friday nights crashing dates—you actually don't really spend them outside your apartment at all, but Seungcheol is the exception to the rule and you're making a lot of them for him. A small price to pay for the glory of dethroning Casanova.

The plan is to "accidentally" run into Seungcheol and his Friday night exploit, and then to casually, non-bitterly mention a, that she is about to become a statistic, b, that his idea of chivalry was birthed in the basement of the Alpha Omega house, and c, that you're surprised he's still single because you always happen to catch him on dates. Something like that.

This is admittedly the best you could come up with. Like you said, you don't really crash dates. You don't really sabotage people either, but Seungcheol declared war the minute his Folgers breath hit your face outside Wonwoo's office.

Then you think of all the ways things can absolutely backfire. Seungcheol's warm, carefree whirl of laughter when he explains you're office rivals, or worse, lies and says you're nothing but a jilted, jealous ex. Or this whole thing could simply be immortalized in his winning article as a jaunty sentence about making the most out of a bad situation, yada yada yada.

You picture watching another girl, spellbound, as you dig into your table-for-one paella.

In your mind's eye, she laughs, floaty like his date at the bagel place, and for a moment you understand what it might feel like to want Choi Seungcheol.

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Friday night at Nai is red and glittering and heady with saffron.

You remember when you first ate here, two weekends after the soft open, early in your career at the paper. After a three hour conversation over wine and octopus with the owner, you wrote the restaurant a glowing review that, to your surprise, helped land it several ritzy awards. Now the dining room is never empty, but they always find space for you.

That was the first time you learned that all of this work meant something. Yeah, you loved an excuse to stuff your face and get paid for it, but what was even better was the chance to tell the stories of a working father's hand-pulled noodles, the drunk, midnight origins of a tasting menu, the caramel-greedy fingers of a well-loved childhood.

This is the long way of explaining how you bypass the two hour standby wait time, and how you walk in on a first name basis with the manager.

You're fully prepared to see Seungcheol mid-churro, perhaps four pick-up lines deep and wondering if he still has a condom in his wallet.

That's why you almost miss him on your way to your table. His is empty, other than a lonely, watered down martini on the rocks and two menus.

"Seungcheol?"

He looks up at you, and something like genuine surprise melts into relief, then intrigue.

"Look at who crawled out of her dungeon," he chuckles. "You clean up good."

Whatever pity you may have felt for him vaporizes instantly. Although, when he beckons for you to sit in the empty seat across from him, you do take the bait—you're not about to pass up a good opportunity to humble your least formidable foe.

"Refreshing to see that our love guru isn't above dining solo," you reply. "I have to admit, your acting is impressive. What an elaborate ruse to get another poor, single diner to pity you enough to sit with you."

"It worked, didn't it?" He takes a sip of his cocktail, which is almost a brand new drink because it's 90% water, 10% martini by now.

"I'm no expert, but pretending to get stood up is not a tip I would give the general public."

"Who said I was pretending?"

No fucking way. Your jaw drops. It's too unreal to believe. Even if the slutty cut of Seungcheol's shirt wasn't persuasive enough, surely the prospect of enjoying a free Michelin star dinner would warrant an appearance, even for you. Breaking News: New York's Hottest Bachelor Ghosted at Top Restaurant. If only that were as wonderful to the average reader as it is to you.

Because waiters are trained to enter conversations at the best possible time, you're forced to pause and order a wine for the table and some tapas. (No paella for one? Seungcheol asks, and you try to reconcile your annoyance with the fact that one, he's read your review of this place, and two, that he looks mildly turned on that you can pronounce all the menu items. You tell the waiter to add a paella.)

"You got stood up?" You cross your arms over your chest. "You may think I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb."

"You have no idea how flattering your reaction is." He laughs, and the air shifts around him, drawing you further into his eyes, inky under the lowlight. "I understand you think I'm irresistible, but, alas, not everyone shares your opinion."

"I never said that."

You hate how easy it is for him to push your buttons. You hate how in control he is, and you hate how he's looking at you like you're on the menu.

The waiter returns with the wine, and you decide you're feeling equally as terrible.

"Truly, you can't be that irresistible. After all this time writing about relationships, you would think you'd actually be in one."

Touch��, you think. Normally, it would be too low a blow, even for you, except that his column-related debauchery is one of the four thrilling conversation topics he subjects you to at the office. And who are you to bury the lede?

"Coaches don't play," Seungcheol says, leaning back and popping the martini olive in his mouth offensively, as if he's not at a restaurant that takes months to get a good table at.

"Bullshit." You lean forward and chase his gaze. He doesn't shy away; rather, he meets you with an appraising raise of an eyebrow. "Coaches should at least know how to throw the ball."

"What do you think we're doing right now?"

"Oh, please." Your wrist twitches as you fight the urge to down your entire glass of merlot in a single gulp. You picture the title of his next article: Top 10 Ways To Get A Woman Drunk. And then the oh so charming punchline: 1. Be so insufferable she cannot last a conversation without her real life partner, wine.

"See? I've already got you laughing." He notices the generous sip missing from your glass and tops you up.

"No, you do not get to make this about me."

Somehow, you are laughing, but you chalk it up to the spiteful little man in your brain writing headlines for Seungcheol's column.

How To Antagonize Your Date In 5 Easy Steps.

"Need I remind you I'm only here because your actual date stood you up? Too soon?"

"I prefer you anyway," he answers, his expression half-challenge, half-something else that you don't really want to think about.

"Crazy, because I'd rather be literally anywhere else."

Signs You Are In A Hostage Situation, Not A Date.

"You should stick to food. You're a bad liar." He cocks his head to the empty table next to him. "It's still open if you want it."

"I'm no quitter."

Maybe The Male Gaze Isn't So Bad: A Thinkpiece.

Definitely not that one.

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"So, before I try anything," Seungcheol says, leaning across the table. "Teach me how to be a food critic."

"Why, so you can steal my job?"

"You can keep it," he laughs. "I'm gonna be your boss, not your replacement."

You notice he'll linger on the tail end of his sentences, betting on the response you haven't even come up with yet. He's picking apart the furrow of your brow, the marrow of your brain. It's like one drawn out interview, but you suppose that's all dating really is. Maybe your journalism degree wasn't a waste of money after all.

You won't give him the satisfaction of a fight (plus, you don't want the food to get cold), so you change the subject.

"Well, I take pictures first," you say, waving away his overeager fork.

"Genius. They really scammed you out of your Pulitzer, huh?"

You ignore him in lieu of repositioning the chorizo. Unfortunately, Seungcheol is unrelenting. You hear the snap of his phone camera, clearly taking a photo of you and not the meal—clever, but you won't bite.

"Wanna be in my story? I can tag you."

In your periphery hovers his wry, wanting smile.

"Sure. So the world can know I'm a charity worker too."

He whistles, clutching his heart. If he weren't so annoying, you would find him a little cute. Just a little. You blame the kitchen for whatever aphrodisiac is in the food today.

"Live update: date with food critic going about as well as an episode of Hell's Kitchen."

He says this leaning forward, elbows on the table, so close to you that your knees might touch. You tense at the thought.

"Any date of mine would be on better behavior."

"So you're admitting this is a date?"

"This," you wave your hand over the table. "This is not a date. This is me regretting ever pitying you."

"Well, pity looks good on you."

And there it is again, that accursed, perfect smile. This time, it works, and you fight the losing battle of the wine flush undoubtedly all over your face. It bothers you that there's a little part of you that enjoys this, but that's a confession you plan on taking to the grave.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, because you're not getting any again."

"Fine. I'm still waiting for your grand secret," he says, now biting the tines of his fork like an untrained dog. No rest for the weary, you suppose. "Food is food. Prove me wrong."

Despite the betrayal of your basal human instincts, you're determined to make this a bad encounter. Maybe you hadn't anticipated the full force of Seungcheol's overgrown fratboy persona, but you came here for a reason and you do plan to see it through.

"There is no secret." You split apart an empanada, the guts steaming and fragrant. "You eat."

"Like this?" He crams an entire piece in his mouth, and you watch him recoil and huff the heat out. "Mmm, 's pretty good, though."

Your eyes almost roll back far enough to see the wrinkles of your brain. Of course he wouldn't get it, but you don't know what you were expecting from a guy who thinks Hot Pockets are fine dining.

You put on your most pretentious food critic face. "Eating is about respect. Storytelling. He's retelling the first time someone made him this dish. The ingredients—they're words on a page. An autobiography." Your hand finds your chest and you sigh, a final touch to your Oscar winning melodrama that would certainly annoy anyone with even half a brain.

"Huh. Poetic," he says. He's still fanning his (very full) mouth, but he chews a little more slowly. "I'm respecting. I'm taking it in."

You don't know if he's actually doing any of that, but, when he takes his next bite he asks about what's in it (tomato, raisin, egg) and if someone really made the chef an empanada when he was younger (yes, on the flour-printed counter, every Sunday morning).

You press on. It shouldn't take much to bore him, but with every question, food-related factoid, and snide comment you have, he matches you with genuine curiosity. Either he's an excellent actor or he's secretly culinary school-bound, because you can't actually imagine anyone putting up with any of that, nonetheless I like dick jokes and football Choi Seungcheol.

You spend the rest of the evening like this, spoon to heart to cherry mouth. The wine is abundant, and Seungcheol spends more time listening than talking, which he admits is a first for him.

"You really know a lot about food," he says, likely fighting the urge to use his finger to get the last of the chocolate sauce off the churro plate. "I like that."

It's a cheap compliment in a game of low blows, but it sits warm and content in your chest. You have to force yourself back to the night you met him, when he was all cognac and one-liners and he gave you his spare hotel room key. A good reminder of his true nature, you think, despite the fact that he just listened to you talk about all the different grains of rice, ad nauseum.

"It's my job," is your reply, adequately distant for your liking.

"Fair. You gonna ask me about mine?"

"What more is there to know?" You hold up the check. "You're paying, right? Chivalry and all that?"

You're waiting for him to mention the company card, the only one allocated to your section that Seungcheol couldn't possibly have because it's sitting snug in your purse. The one you'll say you conveniently forgot so you get to see a grown man squirm at paying the bill.

"Already did. Gave the host my card when I got here. You're holding the customer copy." His chuckle disappears under the lip of his wine glass. "Bet you were excited to use the company card, huh?"

If shame were a physical object, you feel like your own personal Atlas. Your only option is to stare at the wasteland of empty plates before you and wonder how deep Seungcheol's pockets really are.

"Hardly. More excited that I burned a hole in your wallet." You click your tongue, out of options on how to ruin Seungcheol's night. You would spill wine on him but there's none left. "Anyway, I'm heading out."

"Running away?"

"Bored," you lie.

He calls you a taxi, and you walk out together, night heavy with the rhinestone glare of Friday night traffic.

"I actually had a nice time tonight," Seungcheol says, emphasis on the actually.

"Unfortunate."

"How do you think I feel?"

The taxi pulls to the curb, and he sighs, weighty with exaggerated relief. You can't even take it seriously because he's looking right at you and badly failing to push down the smile at the corners of his mouth.

It's only now that you notice his eyes are really brown, like he's from a cartoon or something. Worse, you'd daresay they're nice, less menacing, when they're tempered by a good meal and semi-public humiliation.

"Text me when you get back to your villain lair."

"If I were a real villain, you would have a lot more to worry about."

Seungcheol opens the cab door for you, and you catch a whiff of the cologne he undoubtedly smeared on in the toothpaste-streaked mirror of his five by five studio bathroom. Pine, leather, and citrus, which is the most pedestrian combination of smells to exist and yet you doubt it hasn't done him any favors.

"I'm terrified. Shaking." You clamber into the backseat, and he smiles at you again, as if you've forgotten what all his other ones looked like. "By the way—"

You have half a mind to shut the door in his face, but you can't find it within you—maybe it's the wine, or perhaps pure defeat. Probably the former.

"This job. It's—" He clicks his tongue and looks at the tops of his leather shoes. He's actually thinking, and you don't like it. "Never mind. See you Monday."

And then the words are gone. He shuts the cab door, and they're left in a plume of exhaust and Seungcheol's tiny waving figure in the rearview mirror.

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"So you're telling me you went on a date with your worst enemy."

It's 8 AM, and Jeonghan isn't pulling punches. Even through the phone, you can see his lazy grin, the pen he's flipping in his hand, the green ribbon of the Dow Jones on his desktop.

The newsroom is refreshingly near empty, except for Joshua, who hovers around the water cooler like a fly on the wall, if flies wore Armani ties and cigarette jeans.

"It wasn't a date, and I wanted to ruin it so he would have nothing to write about."

"No one goes on a date to ruin it. You could have just left."

"Clearly you haven't seen How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days."

"Are you serious." Jeonghan laughs, crackly and bright. "Care to tell me how that movie ends?"

"Except he isn't Matthew Mcconaughey. He says spaghetti like pah-scetti and doesn't use Oxford commas."

Mid-laugh, you endure another beat of extended eye contact with your editor until he beckons you over. He'd likely been waiting for the perfect time to interrupt the conversation he was so subtly eavesdropping on—oh, how you love a newsroom with an "open floor plan" to "facilitate communication." Sometimes you think the reason Joshua's stuck around this long is because reporters can't stay away from drama, especially if they're not the ones reporting it.

"I gotta go," you tell Jeonghan, whose version of a goodbye is a triumphant cackle.

You find Joshua putzing around, plastic water cup incriminatingly full.

"I take it you had an enjoyable weekend?" he asks, eyes sequined with all the secrets they hold.

"Yup. Just working on that Dining Through The Years article." Not entirely a lie—you are hedging your bets on this story, one where you revisit the restaurants you wrote about when you first got your start at the paper (Nai included, although admittedly yesterday's food was the least of your concerns). "You needed me?"

"Glad to see New York's finest chefs are well-versed in Kate Hudson's filmography," he says, grinning something beastly. If he weren't your boss, you'd knock that little water cup clean out of his hand. "Anyway, if your interview is over, I need you to go on a field trip."

"Field trip?"

Surely you're better than a task for the interns. You wonder if they're off fighting their own demons, seeing as you missed the circus in the elevator this morning, the usual juggle of hazelnut lattes and lemon poppyseed muffins for the higher-ups.

"Wonwoo needs you to help pick out catering for the corporate event later next week." Joshua tips his head back at Wonwoo's glass-plated office, where you see him redoing his tie in the reflection of his computer monitor. "My guess is that Yerim is going to be there, and he wants to make a good impression. Like an 'I consulted a food expert' impression."

Classic gossip queen Hong Joshua, always with the unnecessary but incredibly cogent commentary on office politics. You think you're actually going to miss the bastard.

"Flattered," you remark dryly. "Catering from where?"

"That's the thing. It's from this Thai place like two hours out from the city."

Two hours: code for an all day endeavor. He wasn't kidding when he said field trip.

You graciously resist the urge to groan out loud. No one told you taking the high road is one big slog through the mud, but here you are. You tell yourself this will help your campaign to be editor—the stinky, dirt-smeared silver lining.

"Before you ask—yes, I know you cannot take the subway there." You blink at him, wondering why this all feels like the set-up to a terrible joke. "Luckily, as you probably know, Seungcheol drives here every day and has offered to help."

Ah. There it is. You look for the blinking applause sign hanging above your head and the chorus of riotous Seungcheols making up your own personal laugh track.

"Only back to the office, though—" Joshua adds, as if that provides you any solace. "There's a one-way bus going up there at noon."

"N-not both ways?" you croak.

"Something about funds," he replies, shrugging. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"You're not the one I'm thinking of shooting."

"Who knows? Maybe he is Matthew McConaughey." And when your glare turns sharp as the edge of a santoku knife, he holds his hands up like he's getting arrested. "I'm just saying. As your friend, not your editor."

Whatever.

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You have to admit, Wonwoo does have impeccable taste in Thai food.

Three noodle dishes, two curries, and the best mango sticky rice you've ever had: that's what it took for you to finally say "not all men." Certainly not Wonwoo, who's in deep enough to send his goons cross-state for a girl he's tried to woo for almost a whole year now.

A tamarind sunset blankets the countryside in milk and honey. You're sitting on a bench, ridiculously full with leftovers to spare, waiting for your chauffeur from hell.

Two years and you still don't know what car Seungcheol drives. Your last memory of it is it being flashy, impractical, and loud, much like him.

You know this, and yet you are still surprised when a gnat of a BMW rips into the curb in front of you. The passenger window crawls down, and Seungcheol has the gall to whistle at you.

For someone so predictable, he sure does manage to find new ways to piss you off. Unfortunately, on brand— according to him, Consistency Is Key (number 2 on Keeping the Spark Alive, August 2022 issue). You've done your reading.

"You're welcome," is the first thing Seungcheol says to you after cranking down the volume of the radio and watching you fumble with the seatbelt.

"You really didn't have to." You look at the array of gas station snacks bubbling out of the cupholders—Sour Patch Kids, a Big Gulp, and Flamin’ Hot Fritos. You didn't even know they sold Sour Patch Kids to full grown adults.

Still, you do feel a little bad. You can count on one hand the amount of people you would do this for and still have one or two cheese-dusted fingers left.

"But, thank you."

"Joshua made me," he says, and what happened this morning starts to make a lot more sense. "Plus, I was a little jealous. I would kill for a day frolicking in the sun, eating delicious food, far, far away from the big city. Not trapped like me in the newsroom, exhausted, toiling away on my magnum opus."

The sigh that crawls from his chapped lips practically shakes the car.

"I'm retracting my thank you."

"I'm devastated. Really."

You choose to watch the strip of shitty New York highway unravel through the greasy passenger window. No point in picking a fight when you're in a leather quilted jail cell for the foreseeable future.

It's at the thirty minute mark where Seungcheol casts the first stone of terrible, stilted small talk.

"Why'd you get sent all the way out here anyway?"

The red taillight flush of rush hour floods the car, an unpleasant reminder of the real sunset left far behind you.

"Thought you knew it was Wonwoo."

"Yeah, but why?"

Why does it matter? Is your first thought, but you realize he's attempting to actually have a genuine conversation with you, which you suppose is better than him flinging around another rude remark. Either that, or he's falling asleep, and you'd rather not have the last moments of your life be in Seungcheol's chick magnet car.

"Joshua thinks it's because he wants to impress Yerim at the corporate meeting this week. I guess she likes Thai."

Traffic is slow enough for him to turn to look at you, really look at you.

"Come on, he can't like her that much."

"Yes, he can." you try to read his expression, neon-glossy. "This isn't even that much effort."

"Nah," he shrugs. "There's gotta be some kind of ulterior motive. Maybe he wants to move into corporate."

"Hot take for a romantic." You frown. "Not everything people do is a career move, you know."

You omit the unlike you that sits heavy in the back of your throat, although, his cavalier approach to relationships is starting to make a little more sense. You wonder if this whole thing—the dates, the watch, the Invisalign smiles—is just a long, drawn-out joke to him.

"Seems like a lot of effort to go through for an office crush." His gaze drifts back to the road. "The extravagant birthday present. Always having her favorite flowers in the office. That one cringe voicemail we all heard him re-record ten times. No one likes anyone that much. Come on. Her dad is the CEO of the company."

Suddenly his winning smile doesn't seem so triumphant. It almost feels like a betrayal, but you don't know why.

"Maybe he just likes her," you reply. "I dunno. I choose to believe that. I think it's sweet."

"Maybe you're the romantic." The words come out like an accusation; Seungcheol laughs, but all the joy's been sucked out of it.

"Who hurt you?"

"No one did. I'm just being honest."

You would laugh at the irony if it didn't feel like there was a vine wrapped round your throat. Life is funny, but never so funny as to curse New York's favorite romance writer with cynicism and a lying streak.

"Controversial, but I actually want to do nice things for the person I like."

"And when was the last time that happened?" He's deflecting, which is predictably on brand for him. His grin, now playful, is propped up by a pair of frustratingly well-formed dimples.

You can't even find it within you to protest because he's right—you haven't dated in a long time. Joshua stopped asking if you were bringing a plus one to office parties ages ago.

But it's not that you can't—in fact, the last time you did, you think it broke you a little inside. It's certainly not a story Seungcheol's privy to, though. You already feel strange, cut-open, trying to convince him that people are capable of meaningful relationships.

Childishly, there's also a part of you chasing the truth about him because it takes him further and further away from you. So you do what you do best and deflect again. Two can play at that game.

"Not taking criticism from a guy who's dated half of the city and has nothing to show for it."

"I wouldn't say nothing."

He opens his mouth then closes it again, as if he's revising the words on his tongue. Journalist behavior, which you didn't even know he could still exhibit.

Now you're really thinking. Who hurt him, and how? The development that Seungcheol is more than the playboy slime haunting page 3 intrigues you more than you'd care to admit.

Before you can pry, Seungcheol's stomach growls, almost offensively loud.

"Sorry," he says. "Who would've thunk that corn chips aren't a balanced meal?"

You stare at the takeout boxes snug in your lap. There is a cosmic message being sent right now.

Seungcheol's sad, Frito-filled belly. Fresh noodle that won't keep well in the fridge. Tax and tip for a four hour car ride back to the city. Expanding your repertoire of blackmail so that you can claim your rightful helm at the paper.

These are all the reasons you give yourself for what you ask next.

"You in a rush?"

"How could I be—do you see the blinding speed we're driving at?" He laughs at his own incredibly unfunny attempt at a joke. "No, I'm not."

"I may or may not have an actual balanced meal for you."

That’s how you end up in the parking lot of a random 7/11 off the freeway. In any other circumstances, it would be a cruel and unusual punishment, but you've already been whittled down enough to actually care about Seungcheol, even if just a little.

That's what you tell yourself, anyway, as you watch him finish the last of the takeout.

"So I'm bad at food, and you're bad at love. Why the fuck did Wonwoo even think of promoting either of us?" Seungcheol kicks his shoes off and props his feet up on the dashboard. You notice his socks have dogs on them, little linty brown ones, and you feel a little worse about openly bullying him about his fashion taste in front of the entirety of copy staff.

"I may be bad at love, but you're worse. Especially for someone who does it for a living," you retort. "Don't think I forgot our earlier conversation."

You try to read the tiny text on a receipt he's got stashed in the center console, among his graveyard of snack wrappers. (2) CHEESY GORDITA CRUNCH…8.78. (1) M MT DEW BAJA BLAST…1.00.

Definitely bad at food, you muse to yourself.

"You think I'm not kicking myself right now? That I have a beautiful girl in my car right now, and all we do is argue?"

Now that—nothing could have prepared you for that.

It gets awfully quiet. The noise of the freeway seems to screech to a fever pitch, all horns and the thrum of the asphalt. You wish anything but John Mayer was playing on the radio.

You will the headlines man in your head to make you laugh. Instead, your brain presses the word beautiful into your neurons and you feel all the heat in your body float to your face, traitorously, dizzyingly. John Mayer croons, your body is a wonderland and your stomach knots into itself over and over again.

"Stop that."

"What?" Seungcheol's head lolls to his shoulder so he can look at you from the corner of his eye. " 's not a big deal. Never been called beautiful?"

A grin plays on his lips, expression dancing on something grim, like he's spoken his final words.

"I'm serious! Stop trying to get me to like you." You huff and cross your arms over your chest, like it'll somehow make you feel more normal. "I'm not some experiment for your column."

"Is it working?"

You don't answer. How can you? There's a yes resting on the roof of your mouth, surely the product of the handful of real, actual moments you've now had with him—far too many for your liking. This whole charade has been a balancing act on the razor edge between rivals and something else, and now you're feeling the sting.

"For the record, I have been called beautiful before."

"And for the record, you're not an experiment for my column. You never were."

There's a relief that pulses through your chest, a breathless, wonderful kind of dizziness. You grab hold of it as soon as it's reared its ugly head. You're flying way too close to the sun, chasing cheap validation from the same guy who ate your lunch out of the fridge last week.

He's no better—he looks like the vulnerability cracked him open a little, and you're the one holding the hammer. It makes for a grubby, unflattering portrait of two emotionally inept people trying to play feelings.

However, much like all other things Seungcheol, any glimpse of something real is gone before you know it. He takes a loud, noisy pull of Diet Coke, and the spell is broken.

"Want any?" And when you shake your head, grateful to swallow the words pressed to your tongue, he says, "Should we wait out traffic here?"

This is an easier yes. You tell yourself you're getting sick of brake lights and reading the license plates on the back of other people's cars. Certainly that makes Seungcheol's gaze, lingering and moonlight-warmed, a little more tolerable.

For once, you don't talk about Wonwoo or your job. You don't talk about love, either.

Maybe this is the reason the next few hours slip through your fingers. Three folded takeout pagodas and a secret—somehow this is all it takes for you to hate Seungcheol just a little less.

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Usually, a good eggs benedict can solve the majority of your problems. Today seems to be the exception. The hollandaise is broken, Jeonghan is already laughing at you, and nothing will ever erase the fact that Seungcheol drove you home last night and now he knows where you live. If you wake up one morning and see a sniper laser pointed at your forehead, you have no one to blame but yourself.

"You look exhausted." An eighth of a buckwheat pancake disappears into Jeonghan's mouth. "You literally eat for a living. There is no reason for them to keep you late."

Jeonghan has a funny way of caring about you, but he's right. You did get home at 2 AM yesterday, but that was on you, not Wonwoo.

"I'm not going to let a corporate slug tell me what is and isn't a real job," you sigh, taking a swig of your half-flat mimosa and reminding yourself to figure out which staff writer gave this place 4 stars in last week's paper.

"Says the girl who needs the company card to afford bottomless brunch," Jeonghan replies.

"At least I'm not a slave to my career."

"What do you call this whole thing with your coworker then, huh? It's all you text me about." The smirk on Jeonghan's face is miserably, tragically righteous, and you can't even be mad about it.

"Seungcheol is my enemy, remember?"

"You sent me a five minute voice memo the other day ranting about how he went on a date with another girl." And just like the little shit he is, he even pulls up your mile-long text history, just to rub it in your face a little harder.

"Am I not allowed to wish for his demise? Since when were you the mature one?"

"I wouldn't call keeping track of his whereabouts wishing for his demise." Jeonghan takes a well-timed bite of your hashbrowns. "Something tells me you're wishing for something a little different."

You almost choke on a blueberry.

"Absolutely not."

You watch Jeonghan power down another mimosa, half-fascinated, half-appalled he would even dream of suggesting something so vile.

The memory of Seungcheol, leant back in the driver’s seat, lowering greasy spools of rice noodles into his mouth, crosses your mind. He had laughed until he cried when he asked you if a pineapple had really fried this rice. That was the kind of man you were dealing with. You can't believe you laughed with him.

"I think it'll be good for you to get back into dating again. Mingyu was, what, three years ago?"

And that's the chocolate chip studded, syrup-covered nail in your coffin. Of course all roads had to lead back to you and your relationship trauma Jeonghan considered unresolved.

You had dated Mingyu when you were younger, softer. It was a love of firsts, of sun-washed mornings and farmer's market Sundays, of raw, black currant midnights and whatever long-winded conversation you had spent all day on.

Mingyu was a chef. His hands, his lips, his eyes—that's how you fell in love with food. Strawberry kisses into fresh pasta into the first time someone had ever cooked for you. What a wonderful, terrible thing to see all your history on a plate, the I could never eat peas, the once I ate mangos till I was sick, the guilty spoon in the vanilla ice cream after a bad day and the dark chocolate you keep in your purse. He remembered that you like your noodles just a little bit overcooked, and you don't even think you told him that.

Food, like some shitty piece of home decor would say in that swirling, curly font, really is some window to the soul. It didn't fully hit you until, one day, you were at the grocery store alone, and somehow you knew exactly what brand of everything Mingyu liked.

You opened a restaurant together after you graduated from college. Then it closed, and you lost Mingyu to Naples or New Orleans or Seoul—somewhere, anywhere to escape the corner of 5th and 40th, the December-pleated memory of his hands in yours and a promise you could never keep.

You're sure you're over it by now, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't look for him in a bowl of his favorite ramyun, the one you could never replicate even though he insisted he just added hot water (Food tastes best when it's a gift, he'd say. You never understood until now.).

Jeonghan doesn't believe you because every time you try explaining this to him, you end up sounding like the most chronically lonely person on planet Earth.

"That is the wrong guy to suggest then," you instead reply, feeling all the food dry up in your mouth.

"I'm running out of options."

"Don't you have a hot coworker or something?"

You shut your eyes, pushing Mingyu back to recall literally any face from one of the many swanky corporate parties Jeonghan bullied you into attending. The only person coming to mind is Lee Chan, and even more than his face, you remember the fat platinum band around his ring finger (Better luck next time, Jeonghan had said, mid-cheese cube).

Worse, amidst all the fuzz, a grainy recollection of Seungcheol's wet cow eyes washes up against your eyelids, and it's not going away this time.

"I thought we were all corporate slugs," Jeonghan replies, enjoying the way you glower at him over your fork. "I was kidding, anyway. Relax."

Your entire body heaves with the sigh that escapes you.

You thank god that Jeonghan is never serious, because otherwise you'd have to consider the fact that he really thought you should date Seungcheol. Jeonghan, who knows the pizza column you, the Mingyu you, and now the you that works late because there's nothing else left to do, really might have thought you should date grifter by day, con artist by night Seungcheol.

The fluorescent glaze of the gas station lights. Seungcheol's hand on the gear stick. His voice, warm and gauzy. It's like there's a flash drive of last night plugged into your head, and you can't take it out.

The stem of the champagne glass finds your hand, and you down the whole thing.

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Monday is uneventful. So is Tuesday, and you wonder what good deed you'd done to deserve such a blessing.

Wednesday, you realize you're just three interviews away from what could possibly be the best article of your life. Unfortunately, two of those won't pick up the phone and the third keeps rescheduling on you.

That's fine—Rome wasn't built in a day, and the same hopefully applies to your future noodle empire.

You're using your lunch break to write an email to number two when you notice Seungcheol hovering around your desk, a plastic straw in his mouth and evil in his eyes.

He's taken to publicly annoying you at work more than usual—Progress, Joshua had told you in the elevator this morning. Towards what? you had asked. He shrugged, letting his crafty, knowing look do all the talking.

"Me, you, and date number two?" is today's opening line. Before you can peel yourself away from your computer and give him a good lashing for whatever the fuck he just said to you, he continues with, "How's that for a follow-up text to my speakeasy date?"

"Lame," you reply, hackles still raised but now re-reading your email for typos.

"Wrong. You were supposed to say incredibly romantic, extremely witty, and unfairly charming." He perches his baseball player ass on the corner of your desk, waiting to be humbled. This is the usual order of things, which has shockingly become more of a familiarity than anything else.

"Do you even have a romantic bone in your body?"

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Just one, but it's the only one that matters."

"Ew. Gross." You wrinkle your nose and attempt to soothe your temper with a sip of the terrible protein shake you got for lunch. "No wonder your column sucks."

"If mine sucks, I'd hate to see what people are saying about yours." And when your reply is a tired, hungry swig of your sad drink, he says, "No lunch today? Even I had something better."

"Lucky you."

The bigger truth is that that the deadline for your article, looming before you, is getting to you more than you'd care to admit. Seungcheol isn't helping, not with his bottomless magic hat of date stories that seems to only grow deeper by the day. Now you're forgetting to pack a lunch, and the highlight of your day has been reduced to punching numbers into a vending machine.

Things are bad, but you'll never say that aloud, especially not to the guy who'll spend the next five years dunking on you if you keep this up.

You stare down the lip of your bottle at the faux-chocolate dregs streaking the bottom.

The month before Mingyu opened his restaurant, you were so preoccupied with making sure everything was just right that you also forgot to eat. One day, leftovers from his work started magically appearing in your fridge. Chow fun (miss you!), salt and pepper shrimp (don't forget to drink water!), a gargantuan vat of hot and sour soup (love you most!).

It was a perfect coincidence until you realized there was no way Chinese takeout was coming out of a very French restaurant, and it was then you learned that love is never really a coincidence.

Now you have no coincidences, mapo tofu, or romance. Just muscle milk and a front row view of the struggling inseam of a man who must shrink his pants in the dryer.

He's peeling a tangerine. Your worst confession to date is that it's easy on the eyes. For once, his hands, always made busy with some scheme, now still over the rind, steady, practiced. Plus, it looks like a marble in his huge hands, which is unfortunately both funny and a little hot.

"Stare any longer, and I'm gonna forget how to peel this."

"Don’t flatter yourself. Just hungry," you half-lie.

Hungry, Stressed, And Delusional—The New Holy Trinity.

It's a catchy headline, but not a great look for you. Never in your life did you think you'd be ogling a man peeling an orange. He even takes all the pith off, and you don't have the heart to tell him that's where all the nutrients are.

"Exactly," he replies. Then he plops the naked, shiny fruit right on your bare desk. "Here. Eat."

You’re so taken aback, all you can do is stare. First at the orange, then at Seungcheol, who suddenly cannot make eye contact with you. Instead, he stacks the peel in his hands, dimpled piece over piece.

"Payback for the, uh, Thai," he says, and although you wouldn't equate a tangerine to James Beard awarded pad kee mao, all you can think of is an lime green sticky note in your fridge and a smile.

A gift. A pithless, wrinkly one.

The idea that Seungcheol was capable of being genuinely nice to anyone, nonetheless, you—probably the most undeserving person of it in the world—makes you feel something close to guilt.

You push through the feeling, instead taking the fruit in your hand and splitting it between your thumbs. The flesh caves so easily, and it's then you remember that food, unlike people, doesn't have to be complicated.

You can feel a better person somewhere inside you, someone easier to care for and with less of a bad attitude. You're not there yet, but there's a dark, satisfying comfort in not being good enough for the indulgence of that kind of intimacy. An arm's length was never too far away for you, except now there's someone sitting on your desk and they gave you lunch. Worst of all, you don't think you mind.

You hold out the half—sticky, guilty fingers and all.

Seungcheol wordlessly accepts it. There's no surprise or confusion—he smiles, you say cheers, and you both take a bite.

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On weekends, the Korean place down the street from your college apartment sold corn dogs until 3 AM. That was when words came easy and love came easier.

It was with sugar all over your nose, eyes pressed to the once forgiving half-moon, where you told Mingyu you would become a writer.

The thing about youth is that it can float anything, no matter how holey, desperate it was. So you sailed through college, that gasping hope wound tight in your fist. Then you started freelancing, just in time for Mingyu’s soft open. You wanted to write, but more importantly, you wanted some way, any way to be useful to the person who had given you so much.

In retrospect, there was no way your crude attempts at actual journalism could ever generate real publicity for him. Not in the heart of New York, where a new restaurant opened every two days and someone wanted to get published every three.

So you eventually sank, and so did Mingyu, leaving you with all this creased, no good love in your chest to shrivel up with nowhere to go.

All of that landed you here. A degree, a dream job, and a laundry list of accolades, but the fruit of that love still hangs heavy and joy-rot on the vine, as you wait for it to be good enough for the taking.

Ironically, it reminded you of cooking. No one ever teaches you when to stop, and now every other joint has dry-aged steak and some version of a three-day demi glacé. But at least demi glacé tastes good—you don't even know what the fuck you're doing some days, and the feeling's never been worse than now, waiting on a call you were supposed to get two days ago.

The phone rings, just in time to distract you from the top button of Seungcheol's fitted shirt, which looks like it's holding on for dear life. He's currently deep in conversation with Mina from design, but every so often, he'll glance your way to see if you're just free enough to be bothered.

The unspoken perils of working late—less people around to pester on Wonwoo's dime.

Mina stuffs her laptop in her bag and checks her watch. Strike three for Seungcheol.

Working Hard Or Hardly Working: A Guide To Office Romances. You're surprised he hasn't written that one yet. Maybe Joshua shot it down.

"Hello?" The dial tone breaks into the warm, risen-bread voice of the woman you know to be the owner of one of your favorite hole-in-the-wall noodle spots. The Friday night after your review was published, there was a line out the door. It honestly felt like a no-brainer to you, and you had no hesitation telling the owner that you were sure her place would become a local mainstay. You watched her crow-footed eyes go moony and you couldn't help but picture the day your yellowed newspaper would be posted up on the wall, framed and prophetic.

You're ready to profusely apologize for not stopping by—truthfully, no bone broth has come close to hers. Instead, she apologizes to you, which you aren't sure is flattering or a sign something terrible has happened.

You hope it's the former, but you should have known that hoping has never been enough.

She tells you that she closed the doors to her restaurant yesterday. It all comes spilling out, one gut punch after the other, the bills and the empty tables and how things just weren't the same the year after your review was published. She thanks you for your time, your writing, and your belief, and then she hangs up.

Not a thing in your body feels capable of moving. All the phone static passes right through you until the week's canned up dread balls up in your throat and some darker-than-black feeling swallows you whole.

The fluorescent ceiling lights sear into you. You think you're going to cry, and that's the last thing you want.

To anyone else, it wouldn't be that serious. Restaurants close all the time, and you know an entry in your silly little column is a far cry from a Hail Mary. But all you can think of is Mingyu’s neon sign on 5th and 40th and the two pairs of hands that had to take it down. You think your fingerprints are still on it, right over the blue shock of the I and the N.

One more dream taking on water, and once again, you're at the sad, cruel center of it.

You try to imagine the gumpaste walls, bumpy and water-stained. Maybe a pale square where your review used to hang.

No, you're definitely going to cry.

Fuck this, fuck work, fuck the article. And fuck Seungcheol, who's packing up his annoying, jingly messenger bag and is the only thing standing between you and an empty office to lose your shit in.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember if you're wearing waterproof mascara today. Unfortunately, the cowbell of Seungcheol's bag sounds like it's catching up to you, and, like it or not, you are two shaky breaths away from breaking down in front of the last person in the world you want to see.

"Final touches on another titillating piece about pineapple on pizza?"

You have no stomach for yelling at him. You can't even look at him. Instead, you bury your head in your hands and tell him to never use the word titillating again.

"A little too soon to play editor, in my humble opinion."

You don't reply. You're trying to scare him off without really scaring him off because god knows you've done that with enough people. Either way, he's calling you a crazy bitch at the next holiday party. You can just hear it.

But you should've known Seungcheol, of all people, doesn't flinch at a little silence. You still feel him hovering behind you, probably wondering if it's the half-full vanilla protein shake on your desk that's turned you sour. Or if you'll really make good on your threat to shank him with the plastic knife you keep in your top drawer.

Just walk away, you think. Go the fuck home.

Seungcheol, who gets paid to play cupid like it's fantasy football, would never understand that bite of the dial tone. Not like that. Half an orange is a hell of a toll to pay for your unfortunate work-related trauma.

You count the seconds till he walks away.

One. Two. Three.

Four is cut short because instead of doing what he should have done and left, he places a hesitant hand at the base of your neck, between your shoulder blades.

"Hey, you ok?"

Easy, noncommittal words, but something in you cracks. You don't know what it is—maybe it's because it's late and you're running on nothing, maybe it's because you can't remember the last time a hand was so warm.

And so, against your better judgment, you lift your streaky, raccoon-eyed face (definitely didn't use waterproof today) from your hands to look at the same eyes you looked at not more than a month ago and swore at.

You're glad you have no idea what you look like, because it's bad enough that all the corners of Seungcheol's face fall.

"Whoa," he breathes.

Now he'll know when to leave me alone, you think, but then that hand slides to your shoulder and his expression becomes impossibly soft and what you thought was confusion, pity even, dips into affection, stinging and raw.

"Listen, I—," he clears his throat nervously. Perhaps he's running through his repertoire of Wikihow phrases to say to a sad person, but you, inexplicably, don't believe that. "I don't know what's going on, but if you, you know, ever needed to talk…" Then he points to himself because that's probably the longest he's gone without attempting to tell a joke.

You're two and a half shaky breaths into this conversation, and the likelihood you will start crying has not changed. If anything, the odds have gotten much worse because the stubbornness of Seungcheol's expression is fooling you into thinking he actually cares. The illusion is comforting—after all the fighting and sabotage and inconveniences, he's still made space for you. That, or he's keeping his enemies close.

Then his thumb rubs over the plane of your collarbone, and all the little walls and hurdles and dams and shields in you drop.

Close friends, closer enemies, and the infinitesimal space between you and Seungcheol.

You'll blame your sorry state of mind for what you're about to do because you can't really cope with any other explanation. That's a tomorrow problem.

Today, you trust Seungcheol. Today, you tell him not everything, but enough.

"Forgive yourself," he says. And before you protest and tell him, through the waves of tears and snot and lightheadedness, that your heart has yet to catch up to the rest of you, he interrupts you before you even start. "I get it. Just try."

You’re all too familiar with his sugar-floss, candy-coated platitudes that make everything seem so simple, but he looks you in the eye, or somewhere even deeper than that, with so much belief, it's contagious.

The words are ripped out from under you. All you can do is what you wanted to do in the first place. So you cry, and when Seungcheol takes you into his arms, at first tentatively and then all at once, you cry even harder.

"Is this ok?" he asks, so quietly, you almost don't hear him.

"Yeah, I-I think so."

You let him hold you, and all the noise and the heat and the static fades into a hum. His chin finds the top of your head and you let him do that too.

Neither of you say anything more. You don't need to.

All that matters is the welcome sound of someone else's heartbeat, a kind hand in your hair, and Seungcheol, with none of the charms and boasts and failed, half-baked insults he hides behind.

Just him, and you decide you like this version best.

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The emotional hangover you wake up with rivals that of every vodka-flavored morning you had when you were in college, plus another two shots.

There is nothing worse than the aftermath of a particularly bad episode of oversharing. There's a reason you don't talk about your personal life at all, but something about Seungcheol makes every single thing claw its way back up your throat.

A need to prove yourself. A tiny, whispering hope that if you give a little, you'll get a little in return. Or your pride, the familiar knife you keep wedged into your side. A million excuses rattle around in your head, but nothing will ever take away the fact that it felt good.

Shields down, heart bleeding—never did you think that's how you would find yourself in a state where you actually liked Seungcheol. It felt good to be taken seriously, to say that all the talk about foie gras and peppercorns and microgreens was just tableside service for a great love and an even greater apology. And you'd like to think somewhere between the tears and the linen of his shirt, you were finally understood.

Just try. The words, sun-warmed stones, float in the hollow of your chest. It felt a little more possible, coming out of Seungcheol's mouth, with that dumb, resolute expression of his.

You don't even know if you would do the same for him. If he came to you, rosy-eyed and breakdown-adjacent, would you drop everything and listen to him? Clearly his problems ran deeper than a pretty girl not calling him back, but you had never really cared to listen.

And that's something you'll give Seungcheol credit for—he puts up with you, with everything, really, albeit with clumsy hands and the mask of reluctance.

You roll onto your side to reach for your phone. There's a text from Jeonghan asking if you're still up for grabbing drinks this evening. (Always). You have your final interview at 2. (Thank god).

And no text from Seungcheol. (Damn.)

Somehow this is disappointing, which makes your day that much worse. Maybe the runny mascara wasn't as flattering as you thought.

8 Totally Normal Texts To Send When You're Overthinking.

Not a good headline for a worse situation. Honestly, you shouldn't care, but now you're here, staring at your phone and undecided on if you even want Monday to come or not.

You'll order one (or three) margaritas tonight. You'll ask Jeonghan about his upcoming trip to Seoul. You'll make your favorite overnight oats and you'll go to sleep and Sunday will pass just the same.

You won't think about Seungcheol's arms around you or his head on top of yours or the way he insisted he would drive you to the subway so you didn't have to walk. You almost brushed against his hand on the gear stick and the nearness made you want to throw up.

But you're not thinking about it. You can't. Not without falling in love just a little.

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"Here. Drink."

You set two cups on the table before sitting face-to-face with Seungcheol, who decided to roll up to a coffee date in a somehow flattering polo and slacks.

But it's not a date—you're just talking. It's a meet-up. Not a hangout, which sounds too familiar, and definitely not a date.

Yesterday did not go as planned. Margarita-buzzed and under Jeonghan's terrible influence, you texted Seungcheol. Just to clear up some stuff, you told yourself. Friday night's like a scab, and you just can't help coming back to it.

"So, you're a coffee connoisseur too, huh?" Seungcheol says, tipping his head to the side.

"Not nearly," you reply. "Just wanted to pay for something for once. I'm pretty sure I owe you at least fifty of these."

"I'll hold you to it." He's doing that thing where it's like he stares past you. It's the most impressive eye contact on the planet, and it's making you nervous.

Then the silence, once welcome, becomes awkward—the air turns stiff, clinging to all the things you haven't said yet.

You play chicken with the idea of being an emotionally intelligent person and just talking about what most certainly is on everyone's mind right now. The cup between your hands is burning your palms. Seungcheol smiles.

"I'm—" The exact moment you start, the words crinkle up on your tongue and all the walls come back up again. It's a terrible, inevitable instinct. "I'm sorry. For Friday."

"For…what?" Seungcheol pauses mid-sip to say this. "Also, this coffee is really good."

Arabica, orange, and honey, you want to say. But you can't deflect this time. Somehow Seungcheol has cornered you into this tiny cafe chair with that disarming grin and an overabundance of patience.

"Everything, I guess. You were just trying to leave."

"No, I wasn't." And he laughs, which makes your stomach fold over trying to figure out what there possibly is to laugh at. "I actually liked getting to know you. You…care a lot. And I didn't expect that."

Seungcheol's sincerity staggers you. You could ask what the hell he just meant by all of that, but you decide to take him for his word. You think you've experienced the most honesty from him in the past three days than you have in the entire span of time you've known him, and it almost feels like a privilege.

"Thanks…?"

"Don’t let it go to your head, though," he adds, as if to erase what he just said. "Can't have you walking around the office with a bigger stick in your ass."

"Poetic." You sigh. Once again, the illusion is shattered. You wonder if his kindness has a time limit. "How's your article coming along?"

"Nice try," he replies. "I'm not that easy."

"You're literally the definition of easy."

"Is that a compliment?" There's that challenge in his eyes again, that same look that he gave you outside Wonwoo's office. "You did ask me out on a date, despite saying that you'd rather eat glass. So I guess either there's a half-eaten plate in your trash or you've finally come to your senses."

"This is not a date. Dream on."

"You're right. This isn't a date." He leans forward on his elbows. "Just like our dinner date wasn't a date."

"It wasn't."

"Of course. If it was, I'd be asking stuff like…Where you're from. But I already know—h, e, double hockey—"

"Chicago."

"Same difference."

Your conversation continues as such.

Not a date, but where'd you go to college? Not a date, but do you have a pet? Not a date, but can I walk you home?

You realize your talk in his car two weeks ago involved everything but your pasts, but you suppose neither of you are the type to unwrap old wounds. Sometimes the bandaid is better on, but, in your case, there's really nothing left to tell.

You divulge that you went to Northwestern for journalism. You have a family tabby, and no, you wouldn't mind being walked home.

You also realize before today, you knew less about Seungcheol than you thought, but there's some give to his secrecy. He went to USC because his parents wanted him to. Played football for half of it until he tore his ACL and got adopted by the sports section of the school paper. He even captained the advice column for three semesters—something he wants to return to, but you're happy to tell him you wouldn't trust his advice as far as you could throw him. (What was your alias? Samuel. Sounds kinda like Seungcheol, huh? You say no. He laughs.)

After circling the same park three times, you reach the doorstep of your apartment building. You cycle through some one-liners to end on a high note, but none of them seem quite right.

It's not a date, but you've noticed Seungcheol keeps glancing at your lips, and it almost seems like one.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol asks some stupid question about if coffee could be considered tea, which you start to answer before you are rudely interrupted.

First, the bump of his nose against yours, then his lips, slow, insistent, dizzying. Your heart jumps all the way to your throat and you think there's so much heat in your cheeks that he can feel it.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol just kissed you and you liked it.

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The next time you see Seungcheol is in the elevator to the newsroom on Monday.

He sticks his dumb, big arm out of the cabin to hold the door open for you, and his smile bruises your overripe heart.

"Hi," he says, sneaking a glance like a guilty child.

"Hi."

The floor indicators flicker like fireflies, one by one. He sidesteps toward you so that your shoulders touch. You watch the 4 crawl to 5. The air in the cabin is sticky, electric.

And as if taking a great big dive, you kiss him, a fleeting, tender thing that you rolled around in your head for a good thirty minutes earlier this morning—and you never thought the fruit of overthinking could be so sweet.

The elevator dings.

Before the doors open to your floor, Seungcheol slams the close button, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you again.

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You have three reasons to get drunk.

1. It's Friday.

2. You finished your article.

3. You and Seungcheol are no longer mortal enemies, but now you don't know what you are.

(The other day, you both worked late, and he ordered takeout to the office. You sat crosslegged on his desk as he tried to explain what a touchdown was and why he was obsessed with the Steelers. Normally a two hour long conversation about football would be a punishable offense, but that night he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt the next day.)

After Wonwoo's dinner with corporate, he went to the market across the street and picked up a few handles of soju and the fattest bottle of cheap vodka you've ever seen.

You're all getting a raise—you guess the Thai must have worked out well, although Wonwoo must have struck out with Yerim since he's spending his Friday night drinking with you guys instead.

So you get drunk.

Drunk enough to tune out of Jihyo from Sports giving Wonwoo dating advice—riveting, if not for your near double vision—and follow Seungcheol to the staff bathroom.

"Anyone—," you manage. His lips are hot on your neck, and every dizzy neuron in your body seems to be reaching, grasping for him. "Anyone ever tell you that your forearms look really good when you roll up your sleeves?"

"All the time," he replies, and he swallows the laugh right off of your tongue.

"You are so annoying." Your palm finds his heartbeat, and you revel in how it leaps towards your skin every hurried beat. You don't want to think about how many girls came before you, leant back against the bathroom counter just like this, but having a body against yours never felt so good. You guess that's what a three year hiatus will do to you. "Bet you hear that one a lot too, huh?"

"You got that right."

Another kiss, just a nudge of his nose and you're leaning up to him; your lips feel swollen and warm and somehow they still crave the feeling.

"How is it that we still bump noses," you ask, half words, half air. Seungcheol's hands, skin-greedy, skim over the back of your thighs like they're water and find the swell of your ass.

"You make me impatient." Cheshire grin across heart lips and you're toast. "Anyone tell you that you have a great ass?"

"All the time," you squeak out. It's a lie and a half but who cares. His fingers drag under the seam of your underwear and you've never been so thankful you forgot to wear shorts under your dress.

"Need you," he says, lips flush to the skin behind your ear, and your lower half would give out if you weren't propped against the sink.

The idea of Seungcheol on his knees, your thigh hiked over his shoulder, crosses your mind. He'd probably be really good at head, and that makes you dizzier than any ungodly combination of alcohol would. Or would he press you against the mirror, want your skirt pushed to your waist so he could fuck you from behind?

Anticipation tumbles into anxiety into some primordial, horrible shyness because you haven't had sex in years. You feel hot and damp and sweaty and you can't remember if you shaved or not. Plus, you're already seizing in his arms and he hasn't even touched you for real yet.

"H-home," you breathe. "Let's go home."

"Hm?" His hand slows in the dip between your thighs. "You wanna stop? We can stop."

"No, I just…I just thought it would be better if we went home. To…you know."

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine’s closer," you answer after a considerable amount of mental gymnastics trying to figure out if you're both drunk enough to not mind the mess.

You know your apartment and you know your bed and you know where the bathroom is in case you have to pee. There's a box of condoms under the sink. You have an extra toothbrush for him. Less variables to worry about because nothing else has really gone to plan. You watch Seungcheol misbutton the top two buttons on his shirt and all the fondness in your heart feels like a welcome stranger in your body.

How To Ruin The Moment In One Easy Step!

You feel incredibly horny and guilty all at once, but Seungcheol kisses your cheek on the way out and it's like you're able to breathe again.

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It seems that the car ride to your place sucks all the sobriety back into the both of you.

You're lying stomach-down on your bed, Seungcheol against the headboard with his shirt undone. You're in your bra and your still sticky underwear, and somehow, despite being ready to break your three-year spell, you like this much better.

"Imagine if someone needed to piss," Seungcheol groans. "I think we would have gotten fired. Lifestyle would have no editor."

"I honestly think that's why Seungkwan was standing outside for so long."

Upon hearing this, Seungcheol's eyes shoot open. If your phone wasn't charging, you would take a picture. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car, and now, even with all the affection you can muster, you can only describe his hair as broom-adjacent. Einstein-core. How far you've fallen from grace.

"Don't worry, he won't say anything." And as you watch the color return to his face, you add, "Also, it's not that I didn't want to have sex, I just…" you trail off, hoping he'll get it even though you're making no sense.

"No, it was the right call. I wanna do it when we're both sober."

It smooths your frayed-out nerves knowing that none of this was a performance or a test, just two shy, touch-starved people stumbling in the dark.

"Lemme guess—this is just a typical Friday night for you."

"Flattering but no," Seungcheol replies, grinning something stupid. "Do you always spend this much time wondering what I'm doing?"

"No!" His hands, once busy with scrunching up the fabric of your bedsheets, now find yours, and he runs a careful thumb over your knuckles. You notice he has the care-worn hands of a line chef, or maybe even a baker, which is funny because you don't even think the man knows how to turn on an oven. "I dunno. You just seem so experienced. What about all of those other girls?"

He flips your hand over, tracing the creases of your palm.

"Just dates. Nothing serious."

You want to ask—What about us? Are we serious? But you swallow it all down. You watch Seungcheol's eyes, midnight-weary, fall back upon you, and it feels like he's trusted you with something important.

"Don’t get it twisted, though," he adds, before yawning big and wide without covering his mouth. "I'm a loser, not a virgin. Definitely not."

You bite back a laugh. Killer journalist bio, but that's something to pitch next content meeting.

"Definitely a loser. I think you make me a loser by association."

"Good. So we're both losers. I like that." He smiles at you with so much warmth, it makes your heart physically hurt. Then he clamps down another yawn. "God, I'm exhausted. I think if we fucked in the bathroom, I'd have passed out. Or pulled my back."

"Then sleep," you chide, shucking a pillow at him. "Also take your shirt off. I don't like outside clothes on the bed."

"Say less," Seungcheol says. "I’ll blow your back out another day. Save the date." Between your almost audible gulp and his unfortunately attractive physique, you almost forget the place you're in-between.

Did everyone fit into his arms? Did he lift a hand for just anyone? Two silhouettes in the lamplight—was that how every day with him ended? Or just you, the only other person competing with him for his dream job? The convenient reality scares you.

The thought never seems to cross Seungcheol's mind. His head hits the pillow, and he's out like a light. But not without a not-so-subtle scoot to your side of the bed, near enough that the heat of his skin plays off yours.

You lean into it, liking how your skin buzzes with the closeness.

You're lulled by the sway of Seungcheol's breathing behind you—probably the most quiet he'll ever be. The moonlight oozes into the room; sleep comes over you like water, a slow, gentle wash.

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You can't remember the last time you cooked for two.

You open your fridge, and the hollow insides stare back at you. Rows of condiments and two water bottles. You have finally reached K-drama CEO status.

"Is this the part where I get kicked out?" Seungcheol says, shrugging his shirt back on as he walks out of the bedroom.

"This is the part where I cook breakfast for you."

"Really? You don't have to." He sounds genuinely surprised, which tips your heart a little off-axis.

"I want to," you reply, double checking the fridge as if opening it a second time would repopulate it. "That's what people do when they care about each other."

"Or if they're trying to poison you."

"Will you just let me do something nice for you?" You yank your head out to glare at him, and he looks stung.

"Thanks." He says it after so much pause that you wonder if this is the first time someone has done this for him. You wish you had a better offering, but surely the man with the worst palate in the world could spare his judgment for one meal. "No really, 'cause I am starving."

You let him bask in the rare glory of the unobstructed refrigerator light while you rummage through the pantry for a plan B.

"Holy shit. You live like this?"

"Not always. It's been…a week." All you have is the ramyun Mingyu likes, which feels like a weird, culinary betrayal. But you're hungry, and Seungcheol is eyeing a strange bag in the freezer that you don't even remember putting there. "You good with ramyun?"

"Honestly, I'll eat anything," he whines, gnawing on the ice straight from the freezer drawer.

At least he's self-aware. But he makes all the spaces Mingyu left behind seem a little less empty, and you can't find it in you to be mad at that.

You wait for the water to boil and Seungcheol finds a seat at your tiny dinner table, a misaligned, wobbly product of Mingyu’s inability to read an Ikea manual.

"I'm hoping your week got better?" Seungcheol asks, referring to your capital W week.

You tentatively nod before dropping the noodles in.

"Of course it did—you woke up to me in your bed. Can't get better than that."

"Actually, it's because I finished my article yesterday."

Seungcheol pauses before laughing to himself. "Congrats," he replies, now wiggling the table on its bad leg. "Can't say the same for myself."

you watch the starch-foam wash over the mouth of the pot, precariously close to the edge. You overfilled it, which mildly surprises you until you consider that you're cooking double the food.

There's a stretchy, anxious tumble in your stomach. It's not like you were expecting him to cheer or anything, but it just reminds you that you are, still in fact, competitors. When all of this is said and done, one of you is losing, and from every angle, it seems like quite the death knell for whatever you've got going on now.

It's a pity because you actually kind of like this arrangement. If Seungcheol was in your banged-up flea market chair next Saturday morning, you wouldn't be mad. Maybe you would even make him waffles. From scratch, even.

"What, too many dates to cover?"

He laughs again, somehow to no one in particular. "Something like that."

Past the bruising swell of his smile is the much sharper, more unforgiving edge of an unspoken hurt that you're neither trusted with nor owed, and yet you refuse to drop it. What about me? It feels like you're almost there, wrapped around something bigger, a scoop you can't pull your stubborn teeth out of.

"Is there a reason none of those were serious? Come on."

"What's so wrong with that?" And when you don't say anything, he says, "Trust me, it is never that serious."

His voice ticks up at the end like a teenager trying to play cool and the noodle water boils up around your chopsticks as you try to get your portion cooked through.

You won't—can't—turn to face him. You committed to the line, and now you must see it through, no matter how bad an idea it may be.

"That's not true," you finally squeeze out, finding the right footing for your voice. "It was serious for me. I'm sorry it wasn’t for you."

The table stops rocking.

"I'm glad. Really." He claps his hands together like a cruel punctuation mark, and it's then you remember that the only person as ill-tempered as you happens to be sitting two feet away.

Like an injured animal, your heart wants to cower back into your chest. You knew this was a mistake—this being everything—but an open wound can't help but bleed and your pride can't do without seeing the knife.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is." The pot hisses, astringent and pleading, beneath your fist. "I don't know what happened with your love life, but don't take it out on me."

"You asked."

"Yeah? Well, what is this?" You turn to face him, feeling the air between you tense, pulled like a rubber band. "You can't sit in my kitchen and tell me you don't care about whatever this is."

After all of the terse meetings, elevator spats, and foul-mouthed encounters in the parking lot, you can now recognize the fresh twist of Seungcheol's mouth and the livewire of a temper you've become so familiar with.

"Who said I didn't care? I'm just tired of you trying to lecture me about my life. I—"

"I'm not lecturing you, I just know you can't really believe what you're saying." Every word stumbles out, trembling and doe-legged, barely audible over his attempts to interrupt you. "There's nothing wrong with admitting you were in love with someone. And if you can't, I just feel really fucking sorry for you."

There’s an incredulous look in Seungcheol's eyes. But it's the worse part of you, ruthless and hungry for acceptance, that makes you say, "Maybe the fact that nothing lasts is your fault."

"Oh, really?" Seungcheol's voice, half-laugh with none of the warmth, rips through you. "You're really gonna act like you're better than me? As if you don't write in your pretentious little column every week, just waiting for your ex to read it and decide he wants you back again?"

There’s a red hot flash behind your eyes and everything inside you feels like it breaks at once.

"You know, at least I had someone who cared about me. Can't say the same about your miserable, sorry ass. Now get the fuck out of my apartment."

"Wh—"

he stands up, table croaking underneath his fists, and you realize you've crossed a bridge that can never be uncrossed.

"Get. Out."

It feels like a stitch in you has come undone. The water has long boiled over the pot and there's no joy to be found in watching Seungcheol stumble over his pant legs on the way to the door.

"I didn't want Mingyu. I wanted you."

it's not an apology, nor is it an indictment. You don't know why you say it, and you guess Seungcheol doesn't either. The door slams behind him, and all you're left with is a bloated pot of ramyun you never really wanted anyway.

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Celery. Red wine. Short rib.

If you had one day left on earth, you think you would go grocery shopping. It was like a prayer to you—you could close your eyes and know exactly what aisle had the beef broth, or feel the stone weight of a can of San Marzano tomato paste.

That's one thing you can thank Mingyu for—it's true that you don't love him like you used to, but you refuse to believe that any love worth having is also worth leaving behind.

Fingerling potatoes, the red ones. A Vidalia onion.

You recite your shopping list, slowly, quietly, a rosary.

Baguette is the next item, with a question mark next to it because sometimes your local bakery sells out after 3.

You pass by, expecting to see the shop window cleared out. Instead you see a familiar crown of cowlicked black hair and a horribly well-worn grin that only looks good because it's on Choi Seungcheol's face.

He's paying for a pretty girl's sourdough, and thyme, rosemary gets washed out by a dizzying riptide of heartache.

It was never personal, you tell yourself. Just another date. That's the angle.

You think it hurts a little less, knowing that it all was a business transaction. A long interview.

The thyme is next to the dill. The rosemary is next to the chives, at the end of the shelf.

You watch Seungcheol lean over the tiny cafe table to take a sip of his date's Americano. Did he always laugh like that? Were you really any different?

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Monday feels tilted.

There's the usual gust of cinnamon sugar and cold brew—today's offering from the interns, who have begun to master the art of pressing the elevator buttons with full hands. Wonwoo is wearing his Monday outfit, a wrinkled cream button up under a navy blue sweater vest. Your cubicle is empty, just the way you like it, save for the ass-shaped spot cleared off on the desk edge.

You like days like this, except today you don't and you know exactly why.

"Today's the day," Joshua says, nose buried in a bakery-style muffin, the top pillowing out of the wrapper.

He stares over your shoulder at your article, locked and loaded for submission to copy.

You are not exaggerating when you say you would die for these four thousand words. You ate and cried and argued for them in what you can only describe as the worst literary coliseum of your life, and now their (and your) fate rests in Joshua’s massive Mickey Mouse hands and Wonwoo's bespectacled whimsy.

"Well, don't let me stop you." He laughs and then totters away, sucking a crumb off a finger. Just another Monday.

Your cursor hovers over the SUBMIT button. You've always been a little scared of it—unsurprising, since you're also the type to triple read an email before sending it—but there's a new kind of fear boxed in those little pixels.

Last night, you emptied out your freezer. Stuck on the back wall was a neon green sticky note, behind all the bags. See you when you get home, it said. You laughed and then you cried and then you ripped it up because that's probably what Seungcheol was looking at the morning you chewed him out.

All of that heartache must have been good for something. To say you wasted it on a no-love situationship wouldn't do any of it justice, not when all that's left is most definitely a crude shoutout on Seungcheol's next listicle. If you weren't already getting one earlier, you sure are now.

You wonder what you'll be:

10 Signs She Is Clinically Insane.

It's Not You, It's Them!

Help! My Friend With Benefits Isn't A Friend Or A Benefit!

At least that one is funny, although if it's the winning line, you don't think you can ever show your face in the office again.

The beginning and the end and the muddy in-between. Entrenched in all of it was this article and this job, and you'll be damned if you let your misplaced faith get co-opted by a sweaty-palmed Casanova.

(8:19 AM; the smell of summer and dried-down cologne. A hand on your ribcage, just beneath your heart. Good morning, Seungcheol says, as if emerging from a long, wonderful dream.)

You picture the byline with editor tacked next to your name. To run your finger over the ink spackled serif of a paper hot off the press, as if somehow it would radiate the misery you had to endure.

(11:41 PM; jajangmyeon and a pack of rice crackers. Seungcheol had given you his chopsticks because you dropped yours. The hum of the broken light outside Wonwoo's office sings in the silence of an empty newsroom. Your eyes meet, and you don't look away.)

There's a sinking feeling in your chest. You close your eyes and hit submit.

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Ask Samuel!

It's 6 PM on a Thursday and if you weren't already on your last thread, you are now. The angry red of the Daily Trojan website glares back at you from your phone as you step into the elevator with none other than your editor-in-chief.

You've resorted to reading Seungcheol's old advice columns. Not because you miss him, but because you want to know if he was ever a competent writer capable of talking about something other than how to score on a second date.

That's the only way he's beating you.

(There's also no way you miss him. The thought would make you laugh out loud if you weren't standing next to your boss).

One column became four became ten. After thirteen you concluded Seungcheol must have sustained a head injury some time before starting his job here—you can find no other explanation for how someone so generous and intuitive could've gotten lost in the chaff of articles with more pictures than words.

"Congrats," Wonwoo says, seemingly speaking into the void.

"Pardon?" You close out a particularly riveting query about estranged childhood friends to look up at him.

"Congrats."

"F-for what?" You get that head rush again, the same one you got a month ago at the Italian restaurant with Jeonghan.

"The job. You got the position." Wonwoo clears his throat calmly, as if he's not delivering the most important news of your life. "I wanted to let you know in person before we sent out Monday’s email."

For once, you have no words. In a wonderful instant, they are all zapped out of your brain. You feel hot and clammy and anxious all at once and you half expect to close your eyes and see either god or the flare of a hospital light, waking you up from an impossible coma.

"Holy shit," the primordial ooze inside you says instead. "T-thank you."

"No need."

"What about Seungcheol? Does he know?"

"I haven't told him yet, but he should be aware." Wonwoo pauses. "He didn't submit anything."

"What?!"

There are only so many surprises your body can handle. You feel like you are being held together by a fast-unraveling string on a poorly made sweater. Your stomach is somewhere in your feet and you don't even know where your heart is. Part of you is waiting for the elevator to stop so the entire office can jump out of the walls and laugh at you.

"I too was surprised," Wonwoo says, now checking his smartwatch for messages. "He must have changed his mind. No matter—I'm confident you will be an excellent fit."

The elevator jerks to a stop at the first floor. You feel boneless, like a can of cranberry sauce.

"Forgive me, I have a dinner appointment." Wonwoo ends the conversation the best way he can—with his trademark parentheses smile and a nod of the head—and leaves you in the elevator cabin alone.

All the times you've dreamed of this moment, you're tear-dizzy, joyous, fumbling with your phone to call your parents.

Instead you stand motionless, waiting, emptied.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

To make croissants, you fold a slab of butter into a square of yeasted dough. You roll it out thin and then fold it into itself before leaving it to rest in the fridge. Then you take it out again, roll it, and fold it. You do this until you've forgotten how many times you folded it and you no longer crave croissants.

When you were five, you pressed your nose to the window of your favorite patisserie and decided this is how your mind works.

You've had ample time now to flatten out Saturday morning, to watch all the little layers of doubt and loathing form, and now you're sick of it. It's not often you're star witness to your own unhappiness, but, as if you were called to the stand, you can easily play back the moment you lit the match and then watched everything explode.

You're not sure what either of you were expecting. A playboy and you, who loves so insistently, almost as if out of spite—there is truly no reality in which it makes sense. The fact that you fought over a literal pot of ramyun only proves this.

And now he's saddled you with the final blow. The position of your dreams with none of the glory because he gave up.

He gave up.

None of this should matter to you.

You're standing outside the office, waiting for your ride to your celebratory dinner (this time, on Jeonghan). The little headline man in your brain is silent for once. Instead, you try to enjoy the breeze, honeyed with late June, and not dwell on the horrible twist in your stomach every time you think about your new position. It's been 24 hours since you found out but it is no less raw.

It's then that you catch Seungcheol, creeping out the double doors of the office like some sort of criminal. You're not sure if it's the plod of his Sasquatch feet or that bag you hate so dearly, but you could recognize that walk from anywhere.

His pace quickens when you turn to face him—he's running away. You won't grant him the satisfaction. Not when he's fucked up what little you had left, and then some.

"You're an idiot, Seungcheol."

That does the trick.

"Funny way of saying hi," he responds, bracing himself on the sidewalk as if you're about to hit him.

"Why didn't you submit anything? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"What does it matter to you? You got the position."

"Look, I—" You shut your eyes, feeling the frenetic ice-cream churn of your brain try to put together a million broken up words. "I'm sorry for Saturday. But I never wanted to scare you off from the job. You deserve it as much as I do, and, as much as I hate to say it, I care about you too fucking much to watch you throw away your shot."

Saying the words is like cutting something loose from your chest, a million strings coming undone.

Seungcheol takes a deep, unsteady breath. You watch the crest and fall of his shoulders and the inescapable tar pits he calls eyes get big and shiny.

"No, I—" He pulls himself from your gaze. "I'm sorry. I should have never said that to you. And I should have never treated you like that."

The silence between you ripples, as if after a long rain.

"I was scared. A long time ago, I threw myself into a relationship. I thought we had something really, really good, and then I found out she was also seeing someone else."

Being right never felt so bad. It's even worse that something you would look forward to—the I told you so, the jokes really write themselves—no longer holds any satisfaction, only a sense of loss and a terrible urge to make it right again.

"And it's not right, but I decided that it was a mistake to take chances like that again. And it was fine, fun even, going on all of these casual dates and getting paid for it. Then you just had to mess it up."

"H-how?"

"You were so dead-set on convincing me otherwise. You wouldn't let it go, not with your weird sayings and the way you talked about your ex and when you told me you were making me breakfast. I started believing you, and it really fucking scared me."

There's a sharp pain in your head. It feels like, at once, you were skinned like a fruit. Like the interlude between dream and waking, all the sheets of sleep yanked from your person.

"What…what about the article?" you ask, scrambling. You don't really want to contend with what he just told you. You don't think you can.

"You deserved it more. And you really love what you do. I used to think it was all bullshit, but I was wrong."

You take a hard swallow. The image of Seungcheol, head bowed, a nervous hand on the back of his neck, swims in front of your eyes.

"Whatever. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore," he laughs, mirthless.

"No, wait," you say. "I-I also…never took you seriously, not even when I should've. You know, I read your advice columns. Crazy, I know."

"I do have to say that is one of your more insane claims."

"No, I thought, they were actually, you know…really good." You watch him blink, mouth already twisting up as he fights a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that I think we messed up. In a lot of ways. But I want to be friends again. Or at least not enemies."

Seungcheol takes a long pause before he sticks his hand out.

"Choi Seungcheol. Writer. It's nice to meet you."

Some force, as if you had always been connected, pulls your skin to his. You shake his hand for the very first time, and starting over never felt so good.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

"You're booking Eleven Madison for the office dinner again, right?"

Wonwoo pops his head into your office, his Monday uniform now festive with a holiday tie. Today, it's snowmen with glasses.

"Naturally," you reply. "Unless you have plans on that Friday."

You're referring to last week, when Wonwoo took a call in the middle of a staff meeting and revealed that yes, he would most definitely be available for drinks with Yerim that evening. He ended the meeting thirty short seconds later, and you think you saw him skip to the elevator.

He laughs, deep and caramel. "Not this time. Also—don't forget to review those job applications. Sent them to your email."

Before you can tease him again, he leaves, and you are forced to look at your teeming inbox, the only unfortunate side effect of your new position. But you've never been happier, and a hundred new unread emails never seemed so wonderful. The first time Jeonghan saw you in your new office, you were so giddy he thought you were coming down with something.

You take a hefty sip of today's coffee (ginger, molasses, cinnamon). On the side of the cup, the one you keep facing away from the door, reads SEUNGCHEOL and OAT, in loopy marker letters.

After you shook hands in the parking lot, you agreed to take it slow. You thought bringing everything to a simmer would cure you of your affection, but it wasn't even a month before Seungcheol was back in that same seat in your kitchen, eating the blueberry waffles you promised him.

But if slow meant long phone calls and the nervous twine of your hands after an ice cream date, then you think you like slow. You could do slow for a while.

He's taken to bringing you coffee in the morning. He claims it's your editorial right, but you think he just likes having an excuse to barge into your office. (And close the door behind him. And kiss you. But that's aside the point.)

Plus, Seungcheol's had plenty of legitimate reasons to be in your office. The newest one is the launch of Ask Sunny! , which you think is the best idea he's had since deciding to get you coffee every day. He spent the last few days campaigning to reuse his old alias, but you're pretty sure he was just looking for reasons to argue with you.

"Afternoon, boss."

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You always seem to learn the hard way with Seungcheol.

He swaggers in, ear-to-ear smile on his face, before taking a seat at the designated corner of your table.

"I think I like this desk better," he says, folding at the waist so he can lean close to you. Instead of reminding him it's the same desk, you just choose to make space for him, you let him press his nose to yours.

"Friendly reminder we're at work."

"Everyone's at lunch, genius."

He interrupts you with just a touch of his lips, which should be considered no less than a war crime by now.

"You are the worst."

"Not what you said last night. Not even close." He places another wet kiss on your nose before sliding off the table edge to his feet. There's a horrible warmth in his eyes as he watches you very clearly remember what exactly he's referring to. (A wandering hand. A cherry. Dark hair, wound through your fingers). "Anyway, I've got serious problems to solve. Or should I say Sunny? I still think we should have gone with Samuel."

"Executive decision," you tease. "Now if you don't need anything, scram. Out of my office."

"Just wanted to remind you I made reservations for us at Avra today," Seungcheol says, lingering in the doorframe with the shit-eating grin he tends to sport nowadays. "I'll even let you order."

There's no fighting the familiar bloom of laughter in your chest. It boils up, sparkling and citrusy, as you roll your eyes and watch Seungcheol return to his desk no less starry-eyed than how he walked in.

If cooking is a language, then love is the words, and you finally think you're learning to speak them.

You open the email at the top of your inbox: Seungcheol's last draft of the article he never published. You urged him to let you consider it for the next issue, and he finally caved (although you're learning that he really doesn't take much convincing when it comes to you).

Eat, Play, Love: A Guide.

Maybe you'd put it through. Maybe.

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#mine #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #scoups x you #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #scoups imagines

[servicpop]

Hhhhhhh this is gonna be embarrassing 4 me to write out shshjsjs but I LOVE your writing and I have a request

If your like up for it, could you write another yanfic? But cowboy x ‘showgirl’ (a dude cross dressing for fun) it’s sfw

Like the cowboy goes to one of the readers shows and is immediately obsessed with the performer who he assumes is just a really flat woman, but when the cowboy goes backstage to find the woman he’s met with a man who looks identical to the woman on stage and realizes that the woman of his dreams was actually a man and to the cowboy that’s even better

N they go on a date and it’s fluffy and shit cus i love fluff and cowboys, i really fucking love cowboys

-🎱

✶ ﹑ love at first performance ﹏

NOW STARRING : Soft cowboy (Cole Hudson) x show"girl" reader

「ㅤSFWㅤ」ㅤCole goes to watch one of reader's show and was captivated by the performance but he didn't know that reader wasn't really a showgirl.

✙ warnings — fluff, reader cross-dresses, addresses reader as woman in the first bit (he doesn't know yet) use of her once! I'm not very good at portraying a cowboy well...

notes ,, this got me doing my research ! not too sure if this is accurate for show girls (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) not proofread!

Dusty boots scraped on the floor as Cole navigated through the bustling crowd; his heart raced from how many people there were. As the cowboy wandered in the dimly lit venue, his gaze fixated on the stage where beautiful women dressed in flamboyant clothing that glittered and swayed with their movement, danced along with the rhythm of music blaring through speakers. One showgirl especially caught Cole's attention. The way your body moved like water was hypnotising and he coupling stop his heart from thumping against his ribcage.

At first, Cole wasn't interested in these loud events; always scarin' his poor cows and his horse, but this time his pal had really insisted for him to visit one. 'It would be fun,' he said, 'see lots of spectacular performances and maybe some cute girls,' he said. So, Cole rode his horse into the heart of town and here he was now, stuck between sweaty bodies and glaring lights in his eyes.

That one performer though, your radiance was brighter than the other showgirls. Cole was entranced by your dancing, oh how he wishes he was there with you, hand on your hips, slow dancing under the soft streetlights of his home town. He slid his hat off, placing it over his chest almost like he was trying to muffle the sound of his racing heart. The costumes were bright, dazzling, and flowed easily in the wind. They were also quite revealing, accentuating the girl's cleavage and showing off the performer's midriff. All but you.

Cole noticed the lack of well— a larger chest like the other girls had, but he just assumed you were flat-chested. That didn't matter to him, besides, he prefered modesty anyways. After a few minutes, your performance was unfortunately coming to an end. The music faded out and the vibrant lights dimmed as he watched you all bow. The venue filled with deafening clapping but Cole couldn't help but stare starry-eyed at you as you walked off stage. He needed to meet you in person.

The next act slowly made their way to the stage but Cole couldn't care less about them; it was a horse show! He's pretty skilled with horses himself so there was no need to stay. Once again he pushed through the crowd of cheering people, weaving his way out of the venue. When he emerged out, Cole was hit with the crisp night air, a stark contrast of freshness compared to inside the venue. His eyes scanned the area, trying to find where the performers went after their show and he was able to spot a small tent that had light seeping out of the gaps. Cole walked over to said tent and grazed the fabric with his fingertips in hesitancy. He took a deep breath; his chest heaving before he shut his eyes and pushed the fabric aside, walking inside.

He opened his eyes as he walked in, a few showgirls turned around to look at him with confused faces and he just stood there dumbfounded. The words he wanted to speak were clogged by the lump in his throat. You walked up to him, waving your hand infront of his face, "Hey, are you okay?" You asked with a raised eyebrow. He blinked a few times before tilting his head down to meet your gaze. Christ you were beautiful, almost hauntingly similar to the showgirl he was infatuated with earlier. "U—um, I'm looking for a specific showgirl that performed tonight and I was wonderin' if I can... find her," He mumbled out, his eyes locked onto your features as if he was assessing your face. "Are you two, by any chance, relatives of some sort?" He questioned, his country accent shining through his voice.

The girls giggled while taking off their make-up and Cole shot them a confused glance. You sighed with a small chuckle and you looked down at your feet, "By any chance, would this 'showgirl' you're looking for, be me?" Once again, Cole stared at you with his jaw open. He felt his heart strangely flutter despite knowing that you were a guy. He swore he wasn't into guys but you were— different. Not like any man he's seen. He just couldn't shake off his attraction towards you.

"You're a fella?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?"

"Well I'll be damned, you are one beauty."

The mixture of his country accent and your more refined accent strikingly contrasted but for some reason complemented eachother. City boy meets country boy. It seemed like Cole had a staring problem because once again, he was blankly gazing into your eyes. It was charming though, how Cole always looked like he was admiring you. Pretty flattering to say the least. Out of nowhere he spoke up...

"How 'bout takin' a ride on my horse?"

How did you get here? Holding onto Cole's waist, you screamed pathetically. Your eyes were screwed shut and your cheek was pressed against his back, all you could hear were hooves thumping on the ground and Cole's warm laugh that echoed through the valley. You two were going so fast that you swore you'd fall off if you didn't hold on tight enough. "You enjoying the ride darlin'?" Cole chuckled, peering over his shoulder to see you clutching onto him like a koala, "Slow down, please!" He ignored your pleas to slow down, "C'mon sweetheart, open your eyes, the stars tonight are just somethin' else!" He yelled through the noise of the wind instead. When he saw that you didn't budge from your terrified position, he just let out a soft laugh and placed one hand over your ones that were clasped around his waist. The warmth of his calloused palm spread to your fingertips and you almost forgot how cold it was tonight. "We're almost there, don't worry," his voice was gentle and thick like honey as he reassured you.

You weren't used to this, not used to the serene silence of the nature, not used to the wind beating so hard against your body, not used to clinging onto a cute cowboy for your dear life as he rode his horse with such passion. You've grown used to the smoke filling the city, used to the loud noises of late night partiers and engines running, used to being by yourself in an apartment with only the warmth of your blanket to keep you company. When was the last time you felt so— free?

The wind died down and you two slowly halted to a stop; you didn't even realise. "You can let go now sugar," Cole giggled as he waited for you to look up from the comfort of his back. You raised your head, your eyes meeting the beautiful scenery of a small cliff with forests lining the background and a starry display of the night sky that seemed like the stars were winking at you. This was a sight you could never see in the city. Cole slides off his horse, planting his two feet on the floor before extending a hand up to you to help you get off too. Your hand reluctantly meets his, the warmth of his palm returning to your finger tips as he guides you down, catching you when you hopped off. The way he handled you was so gentle, as if he was a beast and you were a fragile butterfly.

"Guess you could say we're on a date, huh?" Cole's smile punched your gut from how soft he looked, his hand never left yours. You scoff at his remark — but in a light-hearted way — as your eyes leave his instead, and returned to the scene presented infront of the both of you. It really did seem like a date, far more romantic than any fancy dinner in the big city. Oh and the way his eyes aren't even looking at the sky. He's looking at you. "Ain't it a sight for sore eyes?" He marvelled, and you know he's not talking about the scenery.

"Yeah, it really is," You breathed out quietly like your breath had just been taken away. Cole's eyes finally leave you and he stared at the soil beneath him before he spoke, his voice hushing to barely above a whisper, "You goin' back to the big city soon?" He doesn't want you to leave. Not now. Not yet. Before you could speak, his large hands bring yours together and he traps them between his. His eyes were wide and his brows were furrowed, "Please don't go," he blurted out, embarrassingly higher pitch than he wanted his voice to be.

Your eyes soften as you couldn't help the giggles that escaped your throat. Your eyes lingered on his hands over yours and you noticed the way his fingers trembled slightly but his strength in his grip never faltered. He wasn't allowing you to leave. You did have time before your next gig so, why not?

"Maybe I'll stay for a little longer."

Your heart ached when you saw Cole sigh in relief, his eyes darting everywhere but yours with dusted rose cheeks. He let go of your hands, clutching his own. "I reckon I'll take you out to the strawberry farm my buddy owns. You can't find nothin' sweeter than the fresh grown strawberries out here," He proposed, his fingers skimming over his own knuckles. He was somewhat afraid that you'd reject him. You were so sophisticated, so refined that he couldn't help but feel silly next to you, a big performer who traveled the country to entertain. You, on the other hand, almost instantly fell to your knees from his adorable invite. Strawberry farming? With this cute cowboy you just met? Hell yeah!

"Sounds like a deal, um—" You just realised, you never got his name, "Oh! It's Cole, Cole Hudson," He replied, tipping his hat at you. Jotting his name down in your mind, you glanced at the sky, and noticed that it was incredibly dark, your manager and the girls would be worried if you were nowhere to be found in an unfamiliar place, "Well, I guess it's time to let you be. Let me take you back to your place for tonight." A whistle breaks through the silence in the air as Cole called over his horse, her hooves tapped against the floor in a trot as he took your hand in his and hoisted you up onto the horse's back before hopping on himself, "Hold on, sweets," He smiled, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his waist, securing yourself to him. With a gentle nudge of his foot and the flick of the reins, he guided his horse forward.

You were a little braver this time, keeping your head up as you tried to look around you but it was practically useless now as everything was pitch-black. You wondered how Cole could navigate in such darkness, maybe it was because he travelled up this same path multiple times and knew it better than the back of his palm. As of now, you put your whole trust in him to escort you to your hotel safely.

The lights of the town in the distance inched closer as you two finally made it back. The town was eerily quiet as many people were presumably asleep at this hour — it was so different to the city. "Thanks for the ride, Cole, I really enjoyed it," You thanked him while fumbling to get off his horse; you were still getting used to it. Cole had a hand gently caressing the mahogany-coloured fur of his mare as he looked at you with those hazel eyes of his.

"See you here tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure."

You found yourself rushing to meet up with Cole the next morning. Something in you just— felt at home with him. You met up with him, he took you on his horse, and after a few long conversations about seemingly anything that popped into your minds, you and Cole arrived to the strawberry farm. It was a surprisingly big farm with green rows of leaves with a pop of red peaking out from behind the leaves. Cole helped you put on your boots and strapped a hat to your head to shield you from the harsh sun of the countryside.

"I'll teach ya how to find the sweetest ones," Cole grinned, flicking his head to the side as he encouraged you to follow him. He trudged along the rows of strawberries with his sleeves rolled up above his elbows, showing his well-built forearms. He had given you a little basket and labelled you on 'basket duty,' but you didn't complain. You stared at his back while he proudly walked infront of you, it was now that you realised how big he was compared to you, both in height and muscle. Could you grow to his height in the future? Probably not.

You were snapped out of your trance when Cole squat down and reached a hand out to one particularly red strawberry, "Here, this is a good one," he hummed contently before plucking it off the stem before handing it to you, "Y'see, a bright red tells you its a sweet strawberry, and these green caps are also good," Cole explained. He placed the strawberry into the basket and turned back around, walking forward with peeled eyes. He wanted to find the best ones for you.

"How 'bout you try, darlin'?" Cole asked, glancing over his shoulder before reaching out his arm to encircle around your waist, drawing you closer and leading you forward. "Alright," You hesitated on agreeing but why not give it a try? You couldn't get this experience anywhere in the city. Your eyes caught on specific strawberry that fit the 'Sweet Strawberry' criteria that Cole suggested to you. Vibrant color? Check. Green cap? Check. You picked it off the stem and showed Cole for approval. He placed a hand on his chin as he looked like he was lost in analysing the strawberry. A smile plastered on his face and his dimples appeared, "You'll ain't gonna know 'till you try it."

Bringing the strawberry to your lips, you sunk your teeth into it, the refreshing sweetness meeting your tongue. Your gaze was casted off into space as you took some time to process how to describe the taste until you suddenly felt warm fingers tilt your chin up. Before you could question it, Cole leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, savouring the taste of the strawberry that was lingering on your lips. It was only a small peck before he pulled away. You swear you were just swept off your feet and— was it getting really hot or was it just you? You stood there, frozen, unsure of how to act after that kiss. That was enough to send your heart running laps.

"It's real sweet, you sure did a good job pickin' that one sweetheart."

♡

notes ,, I loved writing this so much! Thank you nonnie ♡♡ I wasn't planning on writing this much but I just had to ,, anyways! If you wanna see more Cole please request scenarios/date ideas/etc etc, also, thank you for 400+ followers ♡ my read more thing keeps breaking so don't mind if its kinda weird!

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #oc x male reader #male x reader #mlm #male x male #sub male reader #male reader #cowboy oc #x male reader #m!reader #oc x reader #bottom male reader #x bottom male reader #fluff

[argreion]

What's Your Poison?

-

Leon Kennedy general/BF headcanons!

We all need some Leon in our lives. This is basically adding onto my own headcanons plus boyfriend headcanons! NSFW too! Stupid? Yes. Do I really care and just wanted to make something today? Yes!

Also YES, the little dividers are uneven (and stupid), it's triggering to me but we still MUST go on.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: Each Leon contains a NSFW and a SFW. RE2R - Nipple play, pussy munching Leon, talks of mommy/daddy kink, food play. RE4R - General talks of hair pulling and breathplay, and pegging. RE6 - talks of drunk sex, (dub-con in a way?), munch Leon, daddy kink, breathplay, somno. Vendetta - talks of choking, pegging, marking and hints of impact play, and MUNCHHHH! Death Island - Talk of motorcycle sex, boob jobs, thigh jobs, shower sex, and scent kink.

Our favorite rookie! Our little pookie! He's such a sweetheart! We'll just say Raccoon City didn't happen, because you would've had to know him before Raccoon City to even actually date him. You two probably met in high school or during his time at the police academy.

He falls hard, he's young, he doesn't understand. Ada didn't exactly happen in this timeline. He doesn't even know Ada exists. I'm sorry Aeon fans, I love Ada, but the way I see Leon… I gotta erase her for RE2R.

Sweet little dates, at cafés, bakeries, or at home! The movie nights you two do, rom-coms, Disney movies, or stupid comedy. Loves them! Feel like he wants the perfectly sweet popcorn, and will buy every kind of seasoning for you. Burnt his popcorn on accident, and accidentally set the fire alarm off, too. Yikes, asides from the blaring alarm. You two couldn't help but giggle! Date nights either ended in mistake, like Leon accidentally falling asleep with his face in popcorn, or ended in cuddles!

Cuddles with RE2 Leon? TUMMY! RE2 Leon has a tummy! He lets you squish and lay on it. Blow raspberries, which he gets bashful at. That's stupid, and that's for kids! Ok, maybe he liked it…

Generally, he's pretty courteous! He's a good boy! Holds the door open like his mama taught him. Hold the chair out for you. Walk on the outer edge of side walks. Offer his coat when needed. Loves to be rewarded with a kiss, or a head pat!

Melts at the fact you might steal his clothes. And tries to often clean them for you. You're in his hoodie? It's going on his phone and possibly in a scrapbook!

Leaves cute little note reminders for you. 'Love you! <3', 'Remember to take your meds!', 'Take breaks!'. Will do small stupid doodles on them as well. Either him with a sloppy chibi style. Or some cute flower or thing he saw on TV!

Bit of a dork, too. I didn't get into this with my general Leon head canons, but I see Leon as a bit of a collector. Possible plushie collector! Watch him at those claw machines, he's stubborn to get a new one! Grew up with plushies and Gundam, too! Will and wants to build with you! He finds it cute, he finds the small odd things cute!

Wants to get a dog with you, said it would be fun! Walking around with it, possibly a bloodhound! It's big floppy ears, and you could howl with it? C'mon, what's not to love?

Little bit of a gamer! Plays stuff like Mario Kart, Zelda, Minecraft, etc. Honestly, just the pretty popular and highly rated games. Gets a D.S. just to get Nintendogs + Cats. Treats them like his babies if you won't want a dog. Is a little pouty because of it, but he'll get it over!

Lets you honestly do whatever you want on him. Want to yassify his look with make-up? Cosplay? Sure, just don't make him wear a skirt. Draw on his face and arms? Go ahead! Cute stickers? He'll take a picture! Photoshoot? There's a place downtown that'll be good! M-marriage? Gonna have to wait a bit on that, babe…

Though, it does come with some setbacks. He's over apologetic. He feels bad for looking so… Feminine, or wishing he wasn't so soft. He looks like a kid at points, in his eyes. His teeth are a bit wonky, too. Don't worry, Leon. We still and always will love you! A little awkward at talking, as well. His last relationship didn't end good, he remembered drinking a lot. Just wants and hopes you'll stay!

!NSFW!

So, let's be honest. Leon will take you well, strap or not. Loves being able to be of use to you. He's gentle, and honestly wants you to be, too! Sorry, but I can't picture him with rough sex at all with RE2! He isn't ready to be choked, or have bondage. The worst he would do is overstimulation, and he has to hype himself up heavily and ask every single second for it!

Likes to nibble and suck on your chest! Worship your nipples, suck on them, kiss them, just nipples. Wants to hold the boobs, be your personal bra. Loves to snuggle them as well, it gives him comfort.

Did we ever mention mommy AND daddy issues? I feel like he might not want to be babied as much, considering I feel like he was a low-key nerd/weirdo in high school. But he can't help but call you something endearing. Sucks on you while looking up at you, those pretty blues. Then asking, “Did I do good?”

Loves the emotion of love during sex. He doesn't even call it sex, honestly. He calls it love making. Positions like Face-Off or honestly 69 make it better to him. Being able to hold you in some way, it makes each single second more heavenly than before.

Sit on his face, please. He loves being able to love you so much. It's also a bit arousing to be suffocated by pussy, but that's just him. Burying himself into your folds and licking at your nub, it's his end journey to do so.

Trims his pubic hair just for you, has accidentally cut himself while doing so… Doesn't want to be a big bush down there! You might not even see his dick because of it!

His dick is probably five to six inches, honestly. I'm leaning towards a four to five, but girlies like going large, so go large! Hard? He probably gains about an inch and a half. Two inches at most. Get him aroused with ice cream, or sensually licking whipped cream off your finger. It always does the trick to the innocent mind. 

-

Rookie is a little buffer now, eh? He's still the same, but honestly… To even date him, you'd probably have to date him before or during RE2R. I feel like he wouldn't even want a relationship during the RE4R — Damnation time frame.

He'll still fall hard, but not dumb. He's seen things now, heard screams, he's traumatized, like legitimately traumatized. Please, give him a hug and just be patient with him after Spain. He needs a moment to rest and for his brain to relax somewhat.

Dates with him are simple, honestly, just pretty basic and cheap. He doesn't need to wear a tuxedo, or go to a penthouse, to enjoy what he has. Orders from a local place, he loves supporting small businesses. If there is none, the way to go is fast food! Sure, he kind of hates it, but it's worth it for you. Cuddled up, watching a stupid show or movie. Movie nights and such with him are amazing! He isn't annoying with talking, and keeps an arm around you at all times.

Pet names galore! Still prefers to use your actual or preferred name, but likes to sometimes go. Babe? Babeeeeee? That was when he knew he fucked up, trying to cook on his own. Then you watched as the apartment exploded, with him awkwardly standing there. :3

Understands the fact he's bad because of everything. He isn't always there to help you. Feels horribly for it, too. Even if you reassure him, it still feels wrong to him for you to feel sad he's gone. He shouldn't even be gone, he should be with you! Hugging you, making Mac and Cheese at 2AM with you! He should be present, and he's not.

Tries to make up for that fact with texting or calls. He needs one every few days, or else he freaks out. Look, he's a mama hen, he worries a lot. For Sherry and Ashley, and you, of course.

Whenever he comes home, all he wants to do is shower with you. No shower sex when he gets home, but two of his favorite things in one place? Sir, yes, sir! Showering with you is his favorite things. Especially when you two start to smack each other with towels, (or the other's ass.)

Still a collector, but this time… It's Gundam PLUS movies. Keeps a few plushies from his childhood. Don't call him out, he'll get all flustered.

Isn't a gamer anymore, his schedule gets pretty clogged up nowadays. Ever since he saved Ashley, he gets put on a lot more missions and such.

Sleeping with him involves an arm around you. Now sleeping like a rock, making you wonder if he's even breaking at points. Will proceed to wrap himself around like a koala, and nuzzle into you. You aren't leaving the bed, you're in his territory, now! You can't fight back or escape…

But you can start a tickle fight, and ultimately lose. He'll pin you down, laughing like an idiot if you even try to tickle him at all. His laugh isn't amazing, that's why he chuckles. He snorts at points, and Leon is pretty self-conscious about it.

Just like with his image about himself. He knows he's pretty, ok? He doesn't want that to be his only thing, though. Getting undermined because you're a pretty boy is tough, and it wears him down. Combat that with noticing something that isn't his eyes, ok? His teeth? His moles? Hands? How he does certain things? How he collects stuff! He'll be ok with you right there, and will be like his rookie self again and again.

!NSFW!

Still emotionally attached to sex. Very emotionally attached to sex. Once in a while you'll see him get all bent out of shape, bending you over his office desk and just go at it. Headlock and all.

Will take the strap, but he needs convincing (it's only a general talk of rules and safe words.) Honestly likes it, likes just being the submissive one. He trusts you to treat him right, and please do. Leon has gone through shit, you can see his mental health declining, and he finds solace sometimes in sex.

Cowgirl kind of man now, wants to hold hands or let you set the pace. Loves to let his hands wander as you get onto riding him. Jokes about you being the cowgirl, and he's just the steed. Might even jokingly wear a cowboy hat. (Take it, iykyk.)

Tug on his hair, he'll moan pitifully. Scratch up his chest and back. Bite at his shoulder to keep quiet. He isn't going to mind anymore, will gladly wear a hickey if he has to. If Hunnigan asks him again one more time why he has a hickey, though… He'll explode from actual embarrassment.

Will suffocate your face if you do suck his dick. Thighs squishing your head and basically breathing in his legs now. He can't help, he's a little sensitive! Don't lick underneath the head, he will literally buck and possibly facefuck you.

Cuddle sex is a must for him, he likes being able to spoon or cuddle with his dick in you! Also, snuggly and his little buddy is warm! It's a win-win for him and you!

Dick size? Probably a 5 1/2 (about 14 centimeters!) inches soft, gets to 7 inches (Almost eighteen centimeters! Basically 17.78 centimeters, so…) PERSONALLY, I feel like Leon tried shaving once before RE2R, cut himself, hated it. Tried again in the RE4R era, and then failed. So, he tries to keep a neat bush, not actual trying to shave all his hair.

-

Welp, now our baby is daddy. He's got a slutty waist, stupid one-liners, dual wields guns, what's next?

Leon is basically a seasoned gentleman now. Offers his jacket or coat more often. Pfft, you want it to yourself? No! You're sharing! Come huddle underneath him as you watch New Year's, Valentine's Day, Christmas, and Thanksgiving! He doesn't care if he looks dumb, you look so cute as a jacket burrito!

Collects DVDs, cassettes, gundam stuff and records! Oh my lord, he has a record player! Slow dances with him! C'mon, it's not stupid, just wait till you're in his arms. Swaying around like dumbasses. Dopey smiles on your face.

Dates this time around are still like RE4R, but local restaurants. Tries to not drink in front of you because of it feels weird. Might get a small shot of whiskey, but that's all.

Pretty stressed with work, he has papers, training rookies, missions, many things. Enjoys if you rake your fingers through his hair, massage his shoulders, get him a snack or drink. Appreciates the small things while he's alive. He might not get them in mere days, he might be dead.

Cuddles with him are nice, your head in his neck, his hand stroking your back. With a movie in the back? Yeah, perfect way to end the day for him.

Will train you of self-defense, because he's gone more often. He sees the president now, he's under the president's order now. Teaches you knife skills, how to shoot a gun, and even make you do a little yoga to be loose. Let's admit it, he'll press against you with a boner. He would, don't lie.

Now he's a mechanic! He'll literally tinker with his motorcycle when he's at home, and his car. Can I just say he's an ok driver? We know he crashes, but he's ok when it's not on a mission. Purposefully speeds up a bit to play around with you, please tell him to stop, he'll do it almost every single time…

Motorcycle rides!!! He wants you to know what it's like to at least be on a motorcycle. His heart will melt if you stick little stickers on his helmet. Doesn't care if he gets laughed at work for it. He's gonna keep those stickers.

Has little idle or casual games on his phone to pass the time. Things like Piano Tiles, Dune, etc. If he isn't playing it, he's probably texting you. Texts in emojis, and sometimes it makes you question if he's ok…

Setbacks? Honestly, there's a lot… He's depressed, we all know he is. Damnation — Vendetta feels like the most saddening for me. RE6 is the center of the storm, the eye. He can be… Drunk. Very drunk, at points. Meaning, he gets irrational, as we see in Vendetta. He cries himself to sleep, he wakes up from nightmares. Leon has a lot happen to him, and it clearly shows. Tense, stressed, tired, and emotional at points.

!NSFW!

Leon is a bit… Lazy. Yeah, I'll say it. He has his spurs of horny energy, but lazy… He wants you to ride him. Let him somno you, or you somno him!

Waking up with your mouth on his cock, grumbling at how you're a good girl for daddy. His hands in your hair as you suck on him like a lollipop. If he even gets a call during it? Shoves your head down on his cock and listens to Hunnigan or whoever on the other side.

Loves to make you wake up with his cock in you, and head buried in your neck. Lazily thrusting or cock warming himself. Murmurs good morning and kisses your neck.

Oh my stars, HE'S SO HORNY WHEN DRUNK? LIKE, OK, Emotional and aggressive drunk Leon who apologizes? But there's another drunk Leon that's HORNY? Dead, my ass is out, and I'm looking over my shoulder at him. I'm not sorry for it.

He'll get on top of you when you sleep and go at it. Whining as you squeeze around his softened dick. And if he cums inside it and it leaks? Slurp, it's gone. Waking up with this idiot in-between in your legs. Pussy juice all over his face.

Daddy kink is, to an extreme, will bend you over the kitchen counter and make you suck his fingers. Have a casual conversation with him, ask “How's your day, daddy?”, did he just cum inside you? He's sorry. (not)

Dick size? Basically the same with RE4R. The bush is still trimmed, and doesn't match the carpet! The drapes are darker!

-

Well, I don't exactly have any stupid or a silly thing to say, cause Vendetta Leon is pretty serious. He isn't fooling around, and I don't see him as moving from partner to partner. Leon is honestly a pretty loyal guy, even if I said otherwise in another head canon. Honestly, they change constantly, so don't take my word for everything.

The only thing I ask you think about is that he is at his lowest low in Resident Evil during this moment. So, we'll try to treat this part 'realistically'. (' ' because I personally haven't dealt with something similar to this, but I'd like to try to be semi-realistic with him.)

Leon's something else in this era, compared to his past ones. It's like he's shut himself off from everything and almost everyone. Even if you started dating him now, or before this era, you're still getting cut off to certain degrees.

Still tries to show he cares, it's not easy. He's confused, deep in his thoughts, and honestly suffering. Alcohol dulls his mind and senses, and it helps him shine through.

Leon wouldn't hurt you, nor even try to lay a hand on you. He can't, he will scream, cry, get frustrated, but hitting is a part he will never EVER do. That'll just hurt his soul more and more. Sex is one thing of love, but he can't hurt you through anger. He can't even squeeze your neck harshly, even if you beg the poor man too.

SNAPPY! So snappy, he will literally chew you out affectionately if you cut something wrong, or hurt yourself! You tripped!? Damn your feet for making you do that! You cut your finger making lunch? Move aside, he’s an expert in cutting. Period? Ok, he isn’t going to be an ass for that. He’ll go out and get anything you want, don’t worry.

Dates with him are more lax, even compared to someone like RE4R Leon, or RE6. He doesn't care enough to just… prepare for a date. It's really hard to explain, because honestly I'm dumb, ok? But sometimes things like these, all he wants is someone he trusts and loves beside him. Your presence is enough, even if you want a date. If you beg hard enough, sure, Uber Eats date. That's what you'll get, or even motorcycle rides.

He still wants you to feel a motorcycle ride, deep down. It's fun, but he's making you wear a helmet. Will joke about you spilling like an egg. If you're scared, that's ok! He gets scared and just acts on adrenaline/instinct!

Wants naps with you, just fall asleep with him. He’ll sleep better with you beside him. Someone to hold and love. Squeezing you gently, hand holding yours, nose buried in your hair. He does a little sniff here and there, your scent brings him home.

Please sit beside him on the floor or couch when he wakes up with a nightmare. Lean your head on his shoulder, just be there for him. Let him know it’s ok and that you’re here. Even if he woke up drunk with a headache, wants to scream, you’re his comfort. Don’t betray his trust, it’s not that easy to truly gain.

Collecting still happens, somewhat. Slowing down because he can’t bother to just enjoy a hobby. There are people dying out there, getting slaughtered by someone who hates a government or certain types of people, or something just overly so feeble-minded. Yes, this people are smart, but sometimes their thought process is something else. He can’t deal with the fact he can sit here and kill people, or watch them be killed. That he can sit there, listen to music, or watch TV. Even after the movie, we’ll say between the point of the end of Vendetta and Death Island, he does change. It doesn’t mean he thinks it’s ok.

This change comes with small things:

Leon becomes less drunk, and honestly I would say he would go to therapy. It helps him, and kudos to him. Mega slay, get yourself the help you need.

Maybe even a little more social. Chris really helped, and you did too! He means it when he says he needed someone beside him, even if you’re telling him to get help and constantly fight over his state. He’s thankful for someone worrying about him.

Little gacha machines and trinkets for his gun, he collects guns and gundams. I’m gonna say it. I’m gonna say it… Gundam COLLECTOR. Period. We all know he probably likes doing stuff with his hands. (That isn’t fingering you-) Cleaning guns, fixing motorcycles, THINGS!!!

Gets honestly a little happy every time you send him a text, or put something stupid on his gun or his daily life things. Face, motorcycle, helmet, gun, even his knife. Likes seeing you giggle and happy in general, this goes for any damn Leon. I love the small things, and I don't care what anyone else SAYS.

!NSFW!

Drunk and lazy sex, still!!! Somno!! Let him wake you up to him being a pussy munch, please! He gets so happy when he sees you wake up and then blush. Just jokes on being hungry for breakfast, and then just starts eating there again! Like, warn me? He isn’t, he does it twice a week. (We like it, Leon, you sweetheart.)

When he starts feeling better, he’s gonna get a little frisky. Might choke you a little, but you gotta still talk with him about everything. He isn’t an asshole, nor does he honestly want to be.

The idea of a vibrator inside you at a store? He’s flicking it up and down, they’ll just think he’s a good boyfriend! Little did they know, you just squirt in your panties. Kisses your whimpers and moans away, can’t let anyone know, can we?

Likes you making marks on him! It’s hot to him, why are you so embarrassed? Who’s gonna ask why the hell there’s a hickey on his neck? Or a slap mark on his ass? C’mon, live a little! Only one life, and he wants to live it now! So, MARK HIM! 

Still takes the strap, do it when he’s drunk. He starts whining, might even start fucking himself onto the strap. You’re just trying to worry because he starts going so fast, and he’s just screaming. Yikes, you might get a noise complainant because of him. Cums so fast when he’s drunk and riding you, sweet baby boy, it’s ok…

His drapes are kind of unruly, honestly. Please, break into his room and trim them, man… Unless you like that. The carpets and drapes basically match.

-

You love to rush him, don't you? Either or not you stayed with him from RE2R, got him during RE6 or Vendetta, or just randomly coming onto his radar. He's feeling better, and he's kicking ass while doing it.

Dates with him are honestly gonna be pretty normal. Now he's doing restaurants, but not overly fancy. That's for a wedding, or a baby. Local restaurants, staying home watching movies, walks in the park, or even workout dates. Are those even a thing? Now they are.

He's gonna coach you if you ever do do workouts. Will one up you, and wants you to do it back. Make him eat his words, that's the fun in it! Get the blood and competition going! At least sit with him when he works out, or when does yoga? Lay underneath him when he does push-ups. Give him smooches, he lives for them. Hold down his feet when he does sit-ups. Kiss him when he comes up!

Sleep in on work with him, don't worry, he can get away with it… Usually. Play with his hair, kiss his cheek, hug his torso, he's falling asleep. Old man hugs you tightly against him, and you're both passing out. Only waking up when Hunnigan is calling him repeatedly for a mission.

Really clingy for a boyfriend. Like, I get he's a clingy middle-aged man. But he wants to hold you every single second. Arm around your waist, kissing your hand, squeezing your hip. Don't run! He's trained! You got three seconds to come back before he chases you down!

Wants to see you wear his clothes. His leather jacket!? You slept with it? Will sneak a picture of it, and accidentally leave his flash on. Frantically apologizes as he woke you up, and then sneaks off somehow. He's got to remember to turn that damned flash off…

Try sweets with him! All Leons have a sweet tooth, but especially RE2R and DI! Here, have you tried this? Or this? O-Or th— OH I'M SO SORRY! You just have to stand there with either so many flavors or tastes in your mouth. He just got excited! Here, do it back to him!

Slow dancing at anytime with him. Let him spin you around slowly and just be there with you. He isn't amazing, but he loves feeling you there with him.

Debate about Disney movies with him, he'll actually debate back. He's got all the movies on VHS, DVD, and of course he has them on Disney+! He ain't selling 'em when he's old and wrinkly! He won't let you take them!

Matching jackets with him, or shirts! He takes so many photos! Leon can't help it, the last one didn't capture your essence!

Still uses emojis like an idiot. And sends selfies of him mid-battle or coming back on heli/plane. Leaves cute voice messages! Don't make him speak in a cutesy voice, he'll fail miserably.

Wrestling is a must, he gets into it sometimes. He's pretty gentle, honestly. Why struggle in his big manly arms? Don't leave him! See, he's crying! You made poor old man Leon cry!

Relaxed motorcycle rides, hold on to him tight! He drives recklessly, but trust his skill! You're in good hands.

Actually, hold that thought… Leon loves hands. Shave his stubble, squeeze his arm, do many dirty things or wholesome things to him. Like, he's honestly so soft.

Setbacks? Honestly, it's a mix of RE4R and RE6. Cries himself to sleep. Wants you with him when it does happen. Tries to use what he was taught, and sometimes it does and doesn't work. So, man does drink the pain away at points. It isn't as bad as Vendetta, but the pain isn't over. Sadly, he's forced himself to get used to it. The bad guys always pop up, and he doesn't even know if younger people can handle them. The burdens of being the president's lapdog are stressful. Let's remember one key thing, Leon didn't even willingly become his lapdog. Like, period. LET HIM LIVE HIS LIFE WITH YOU!!

!NSFW!

You can't say it hasn't crossed Leons mind to have motorcycle sex! Dude, he will tease you on his bike. Cup your mound and slip his fingers to your folds. Fucks you on that bike hard, it's such a turn-on for him at this point. He can't deny it, every single Leon can't deny it. (RE6 — DI) Always gets away with it, somehow.

Wearing lingerie for him? Lace… He will drop to his knees and put his head on your thigh. Blue eyes pleading you let him fuck you. You're so beautiful!

You'll look so much more beautiful with his cum on your body! Let him jerk-off and cum on you! Your face, pussy, stomach, chest, thighs… Did he get hard again? He snaps so many pictures and gets them done. Possibly even a Polaroid, gotta keep some encouragement in his wallet.

BOOBSSS! He can't help but love your boobs so much. Like in RE2R, he wants to hold them. Do a little sucking on them, kiss your nipples, and titty fucking? Let him shove his dick between those breasts and go hammer at it.

Thighs as well? THIGH FUCKING!! Paint those pretty thighs in white, cause he ain't holding back!

Shower sex? Mmmmm, cutely wash each other than washing the sex off AS you have sex? Complain when the water starts getting cold, he's gonna be a little shit and spray cold water on your pussy. Do it back at him, he'll scream like a girl!

Will make you apologize for that by making you give his balls some loving? Oh, you don't want hair with your food? Shut up, you don't have to pay anything! It's SEASONING! Will literally have one hand pushing you into his balls to suck on, while playing some stupid game on his phone or texting Hunnigan.

Teasing texts + selfies. Leon levels up in that stuff, omg. He sucks in RE2R, but he's getting pretty ok at it! Teases you with a bulge pic if he can. Or shirtless pics? Spits out his drink when he gets to see pretty breasts or your cute little pussy. Furiously texts back saying “MORE” (Then adds “pls and ty :)”)

Drapes are slightly darker, and back to being trimmed! Balls are a little bigger because I said so.

Just wanted to add a little something at the bottom... THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FIFTY FOLLOWERS! I'm so surprised I got there within a week! Y'all are so sweet! And thanks to all the people who've been so nice to me too :(( I hope I can soon be up to good expectations!

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut

[de4dlyniightshade]

I’d really just like to request your most feral Spencer Reid headcanons. SFW, NSFW, raunchy, tame - whatever. Just your like “I will fight anyone who disagrees, they are fact” type headcanons.

(Because I reread all your headcanons and love every single one)

I BEEN WAITING ON SOMEONE ASKING THIS! i've also just been meaning to make a hc post.

i was gonna split them into nsfw and sfw but they just ended up all mixed together 0-0

submissive and breedable spencer truther til i fucking die i'll get him pregnant don't play with me.

loves messy kisses like spit running down his chin, tongues down each others throat, desperately gripping at each other type of kisses.

maybe just me projecting and taking what mgg said as gospel truth but i fully believe that spencer loves a curvy woman, not even just for sexual reasons he also loves to rest his head on a nice big pair of boobs or thighs.

speaking of, boob guy! shamefully, but still a boob guy! adores groping your boobs whenever he can and would have your boob in his mouth 24/7 if he could, has literally fallen asleep with his head under your shirt and your nipple in his mouth.

munch! like the biggest munch ever, loves nothing more than coming home from a long day and burying his face between your thighs or having you ride his face.

knows full well that toys are his teammate and not his competitors and has no insecurities about you using toys on yourself or owning any.

does not care how well groomed you are, if you asked him what he preferred he'd be like??? it's literally none of my business???

needs lots of reassurance during sex, he just likes to know that he's doing good and making you feel good throughout the whole thing.

doesn't like talking about his sex life, especially with derek, no matter how hard he pressed and pries spencer wont let anything but the bare minimum out.

i imagine he's more drawn to a commanding woman, someone who will take the lead and teach him because of his inexperience and finds that he actually loves being dominated and hardly has any desire to dominate you.

really vocal! even though i've already said it like twice he just is, i can feel it in my bones, he's just such a whiny little baby and can't help but moan loudly any time you're touching him.

is completely against the idea of road head until you do it while you're on a long drive and it both changes his life and almost ends it bcs he swerved into the other lane which was luckily empty.

still gets shy when you kiss him in front even the team even years down the line.

learns to cook so he can make you breakfast whenever you're staying at his apartment.

on the same lines, lovesss morning sex, just that feeling of not wanting to get out your warm bed into the cold air, savouring the warmth in the best way possible.

had no idea what queefing was real until it happened and he was like genuinely so fascinated rather than disgusted.

i feel like spencer would own a bird for sure, not just bcs of gideon but he did help him realise how cool birds are which made him get one, probably a cockatiel or parrotlet with some silly name like dave.

all bark, no bite. likes to act a big game in front of others but the second you're alone he's begging and calling you mommy.

loves nothing more than waking up before you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before carefully and quietly getting out of bed to make you breakfast with the intention of bringing it to you but when you wake up before him and sneak up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist he can't help but melt.

very open to experimenting further down the line, anything you want to try he'll try at least once, except for blindfolds on himself, would be completely open to blindfolding you though.

loves public touching, not outright sex but he'd love when you subtly brush your hand over his crotch or take a handful of his ass in a public place.

teaches you how to knit and cries when you actually make him something like a sweater or even just a hat bcs he realises that's why you wanted to learn in the first place.

can't ride a bike.(this is definitely me projecting bcs i can't but i just feel like he can't okay)

lana enjoyer!!! especially if you are, he just wants to understand all the things you love and if you love lana so does he, he'd love to hear you ramble about your favourite songs and would take note of them and listen to them asap and tell you he loves them even if he didn't like some that much bcs he loves how happy it makes you.

wouldn't want to introduce you to his mother too soon but if you ended up meeting her by chance he'd be sweating buckets in case you didn't get along but you two just bond over your adoration for him and he's just so happy about it.

probably took a while to warm up to physical touch in the beginning bcs of his germophobia but when he finally does he regrets not doing it sooner.

washes his hands every single time before touching you sexually, not even for his benefit, he just wants to be as safe as possible with you.

loves elvis and almost proposes on the spot when you offer to dance with him to can't help falling in love, secretly sheds a few tears while you waltz around his apartment in your pyjamas.

okay i've definitely left stuff out that i've thought of but this is long asf so i'll leave it there😭

#💌 headcanon segment!!!∩^ω^∩ #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #mgg #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter fourteen | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Gaul, elitism | lmk if I forgot something

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 mistakes are made, apologies are given

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 chapter fourteen!!! Let's go baby <33 remember to give me your feedback

beta read by my 💘 @nowitsmissing

masterlist | navigation

The rest of the day was dull. Nothing new had happened in the games. Coriolanus made his way to his home. Tonight was the night of the gala. Tigris had informed that she had finished making his suit but didn't show him how it was. It was a surprise. All he knew was that it was approved by you.

He reached his penthouse. He is greeted by Tigris with a hug and a smile. Coriolanus smiles back at his cousin for good measure. Trying to hide his nervousness about attending this prestigious gala that could make or break Snow's reputation.

Tigris excitedly shows him the red tux she had designed for him. Coriolanus wears the suit, and can't take his eyes off himself in the mirror. He looked good, there's no doubt about it.

His cousin has magic in her eyes. He tells her so and watches her eyes brighten up. “Oh, Coryo,” she said, lovingly, “It's because it's you that it looks so good.” Snow doesn't argue.

“And what about her?” He asked, “Did you make her dress the same as mine?” Tigris won't even let him see the designs. He can only imagine his heart would stop beating when he sees you. He wondered if Tigris was fine with that.

“You'll know when you see her,” Tigris giggled.

He sighs in response.

Tigris also adds, “She's the reason we still have this place, Coryo. Be kind to her.”

Coriolanus furrows his eyes. What did Tigris mean? “What?” He asked, his tone sharp. Snow didn't need pity money. And you being the one giving him dollars was salt in the wound.

“The payment for the dresses…” Tigris begins to explain, “It's enough for this month's taxes and a few weeks of food.” Coriolanus' mouth dries, he had completely forgotten about the eviction note. With everything going on, he supposed that it was natural. But Tigris had taken the burden herself while he was no help.

“I am glad,” he mutters, feeling heavily indebted to you. He didn't like the feeling. He lets it linger in the corner of his mind. He says goodbye to grandma’am and Tigris. Then he was on his way to the presidential mansion. You had said that you'd meet him there.

He reaches the presidential mansion. The press surrounded the area with cameras. He swallows as he realizes every moment of his is being broadcast live. Much like when he was in the cage with Lucy Gray. He doesn't let the flashes bother him. He already knew his outfit would be the talk of the show and it was a great opportunity to let Tigris's name out there.

He feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around. That's it. He's dead. His heartbeat stopped. He forgot how to breathe.

There's no other way to explain his reaction to you.

His sun and moon. You looked marvelous. Enough so that his breath was knocked out of his chest. How did people speak again?

“Hello,” he gasps out, his cheeks burning. He ignored the urge to trace his soulmate's scar. He looks away from you, unable to meet your eyes. Too pretty. Too fucking pretty.

“Hi, Coryo,” you said, wrapping your arm around his. You both walk up to the stairs of the mansion. “Is everything alright?” You asked, a bit worried as he wasn't meeting your eyes.

“Fine,” he mutters.

You hum in response, turning back to the cameras. All waves and smiles. He forgets to do the same as he has eyes on you. He watches you like a lovesick puppy. Until it's time to enter the gala.

He doesn't let his anxious thoughts take over. He counts his breaths as he walks into the mansion. The gala was filled with people. Even higher-up district officials were invited. Several army officers with high standings and even the peacekeeper heads of each district were attending. There were also his classmates.

Clemensia Dovecote. Festus Creed.

They were all present. He could see the Plinth couple, but their son was missing. Quite the idiot to miss this opportunity. More for him, he supposed. He leaves you behind to greet his friends.

“Clemmie,” he grins.

“Well, hello, Coriolanus. It's nice to see your family finally has an invitation. It was about time,” she smiles.

Coriolanus doesn't correct her assumption. He doesn't tell her that he is here as your date. He didn't deem it necessary.

“Did you bring a date?” Festus Creed asked.

Coriolanus shrugged and said your name, he also added, “Well, she was available.” Festus raised an eyebrow at Coryo’s dismissive tone.

“What about the kiss in the auditorium? Several hearts were broken, Coriolanus,” Clemmie jokes.

Coryo bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to say something. But the fact you're District was surely fresh in his classmates’ minds. Telling them you're something to him wouldn't be much help with his goal for the gala. So, he shrugged, “Ah… well, we're all foolish sometimes.”

His classmates let it go. And he was glad.

Coriolanus seemed to completely forget about you as Clemmie and Festus introduced him to several elitists of the Capitol. People he can never meet through simple means. Coriolanus greets them, making small talk. Every time he mentions Lucy Gray, they're impressed. Even more so when they realize he's the reason that they can make such a contribution to the games.

In the conversation, Dr. Gaul joins. “Hello, Mr. Snow,” she greets him. She turns to the circle he was chatting up. The people were both in awe and afraid of Dr. Gaul. Just like him. She easily takes control of the conversation. Coriolanus does what he does best. Let the conversation flow in the favor of Dr. Gaul. He adds to the glory of the games and how it is necessary. He thanks the elitists for their funding.

From the gleam of approval in Dr. Gauls' eyes, Coriolanus felt proud like he never had before.

He wants to tell you about this immediately! He wanted you to be proud of him too. He had acquired several business cards by now. He had made an impression on everyone he talked to. If he won the Hunger Games, he wouldn't have to worry about university. After tonight, he won't have to worry after university is over either.

It was all because of you.

He feels dread in his mind when he can't see you anywhere on the floor. He finishes his drink, and excuses himself cordially from the conversation. He searches for you before he notices the stairwell leading to the roof. He decided to take the chance of finding you there.

He turned out to be lucky.

He finds you near the metal rails. You were leaning forward, your body facing the city lights. You looked like a part of the city view. He knew he had messed up as he walked closer to you. He left you alone the moment he could. A date wasn't supposed to do that. He knew that! But he was sure you would be understanding. He needed to take advantage of this night.

That's why you brought him here, right?

“Dove,” he said, taking your attention away from the view of the bustling nightlife.

“I see you're making connections, pup.”

“Pup?” he questioned, his tone turning wary.

“Of course, a pup. A pet wagging its tail to an owner who doesn't give a shit. Dr. Gaul, she treats you like an obedient dog baiting you with treats. For her you're disposable, a dog to put down when you'll bite her hand. And here you are in the gala I bought you too, kissing her ass in front of everyone as if they can't see through her bullshit.” You take a deep breath, trying to control yourself, “She sent you to death a day before, Coriolanus! If you're gonna continue to kiss her ass like a mindless pup wanting treats, by all means go ahead.”

Coriolanus takes a deep breath despite the fact he was offended; he didn't wanna fight with you. Coriolanus opens his mouth- he's interrupted by you before he can even begin speaking. You turned to face him. Your eyes glaring at him with anger.

“Not only that! You’re not disposable, Coryo. And I hate how people treat you that way. I am the only one who thinks that way. I am the one you left behind. You ran to Clemmie the moment you saw her and did you know what Festus Creed said to me? He said that I am here as your date and it's because I was available!”

“I have done so many things for you! From rigging the assignment of tributes to proposing the destruction of District thirteen. I have damned my morals for you! I would burn the world for you. And all I get is… this! It's fucking not worth it.”

You don't let Coriolanus speak a word. You tried to walk past him in a hurry but Coryo held your arm and pulled you back. He effortlessly pushes you onto the railing and traps you in.

“Don't talk to me that way,” Coriolanus said, his eyes blazing, his mind confused and his tone dark. “I know what I did was wrong. You should be understanding. What I am doing is for my future. I don't have the time to waste this night like you.” He doesn't bring up the mention of you rigging the tributes nor the nonsense of district thirteen. He will settle this first.

He continues, “What I was doing, it was to be expected. This was too good of an opportunity to let go of. Don't act stupid, dove. Act rationally.”

You scoff at his face and he feels his anger increasing. “Rationally? If you were rational, you would have waited for me to introduce you to the people. Do you know the power I carry, Coriolanus? Yet because of your prejudice against my background, you didn't use me to your advantage. I served myself to you on a silver platter and you left me to rot. Don't talk to me about rationality, love.”

“It's not because of your-” Coriolanus shuts his mouth when he sees tears falling down your cheeks. “Real or not?”

“Don't talk to me if you have to ask,” you sob.

He pulls you in his arms. He cages you, letting you ruin the suit with your tears. Due to the deep red fabric, the tear stains wouldn't be obvious. “I am sorry,” he whispered, genuinely.

He remembered your former words.

‘It's fucking not worth it.’

He tightened his hold around you, imprisoning you. He can't believe he messed this up this bad. The worst is it was his fault. He runs a hand through your hair, trying to calm you down. He whispers sweet nothings and apologies until the rise of your chest is steady.

“It's true. I have held prejudice against your background,” it felt wrong to admit this out loud. Coriolanus repeats, “I am sorry, dove.”

“You haven't been district for a long time and it's wrong for me to hold it against you. You're Capitol, not by blood but by deeds. It's more than enough.”

You pulled back, away from his arms. He mourns the loss in his mind, he wants to pull you in again immediately. You wipe your tears away. “I'll forgive you if you publicize our romance today.”

His eyes widened in shock. He wants to yell no! But then he remembered, ‘It's fucking not worth it.’ He takes a shaky breath, steeling his mind. He can't eat his words now. “Fine, sweetheart. You can tell the public Coriolanus Snow is yours and that you are mine.”

The smile you give him reminds him of a fox. He vaguely feels like he has fallen into a trap he can't get out of. Webs after web, he can't even imagine. He shakes himself clear of these thoughts.

You held out your hand, “Then come on Coriolanus Snow, my partner let me introduce you to some people who will like you very very much.”

He takes it. In his mind, he knows he has to ask you about the rigging and about the district that ruined his life.

He dreads it.

NEXT PART

#character x reader #x you #x reader #x female reader #fem reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #president coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader smut #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #president snow #thg tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #tom blyth #dystopian fiction #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games #thg x reader #thg fanfiction

[baldval]

do you also do polyamorous things? could we have romantic headcanons with the vee's and a very childish reader? (sorry, I'm very silly!!!)

would prefer a gn!reader, but fem or male is always fine too!

if you don't do poly things, then just velvette is fine!

-🍋 anon

DATING THE VEES HEADCANONS!₊˚⊹♡

characters: velvette, valentino, vox, x gn!reader (poly)

warnings: cursing, nfsw headcanons later on.

a/n: i respect all ships, but personally i am a firm believer of poly!vees and, obviously, love this request!!!!

SFW:

ʚɞ without fail, vox would be the one to wake up eary and make breakfast for all of you.

ʚɞ "you're all so fucking lazy, perhaps you could try to do something?"

ʚɞ secretly, he loves to cook.

ʚɞ he'll never admit to it but you all know it.

ʚɞ as vox's alarm wakes you all up, velvette gives both valentino and you sweet good morning kisses.

ʚɞ meanwhile, valentino grumbles something into the soft flesh of your thigh.

ʚɞ very much not a morning person.

ʚɞ vox is used to hammering away for hours alone in his office, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t get a bit lonely.

ʚɞ would be delighted to find you and velvette lingering to spend time with him and watching him work.

ʚɞ whereas valentino is pretty much the exact opposite.

ʚɞ 'clingy' is an understatement.

ʚɞ constantly all over the both of you.

ʚɞ genuinely doesn't matter who is around, he will hold your waist and plant a kiss on your lips natural as anything.

ʚɞ a hand on your hip as he hugs velvette by her shoulder.

ʚɞ "come on vox, you've been in there for hours." you whine

ʚɞ "i'll be done in a minute darling."

ʚɞ when she's between work, velvette loves to experiment with novel ideas for her clothing line.

ʚɞ often shows new things to you first to get your opinion.

ʚɞ one day you asked her to teach you how to sew, to which she answered with such excitement it was almost to the point of giddy.

ʚɞ val loves it when he's working and you just enter his office and sit on his legs.

ʚɞ his arms surrounding your figure.

ʚɞ vox loves when you play helpless damsel with little things, even when he knows you're exaggerating.

ʚɞ enjoys seeing you struggle

ʚɞ and when you give him puppy eyes.

ʚɞ watches you with a loving smirk.

ʚɞ "let me take care of it, darling"

ʚɞ you all love riling vox up when you know he has somewhere to be.

ʚɞ "what if we made out right now? would you still want to leave?" you tease.

ʚɞ he’s embarrassingly affected by your kisses and caresses.

ʚɞ and how you all always manage to make him late.

NSFW:

ʚɞ velvette tends to be a very rough and demanding top.

ʚɞ topping velvette is rare, but absolutely a glorious experience to be a part of.

ʚɞ whereas vox is much more giving.

ʚɞ he still needs praise tho.

ʚɞ "you look so good on top of me, it's amazing".

ʚɞ "hmm... please- keep doing that."

ʚɞ valentino is the textbook definition of a power bottom.

ʚɞ he's always the one to get impatient and jealous during sex.

ʚɞ especially when velvette or vox are taking up too much of you for too long.

ʚɞ "hurry up," he'd mumble while sucking at the skin of your neck.

ʚɞ but velvette ignores him, her mouth steadfastly doing the lord's work between your legs.

ʚɞ she's fond of the brat but not about to rush your pleasure over it.

ʚɞ besides, she know you all can think of a few better ways to shut valentino up.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #cursed cat alastor #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette x reader #the vees hazbin hotel #the vees #the vees x reader

[fire-lizard-ro]

Dragon Dan Heng

warning: mention of COCK ovi, knotting, other non-human anatomy things????, biting and marking, rut/heat cycles, dacryphilia, egregious amounts of cum (I think that's how you use that word), dumbification, oral, tongue in throat (a lil choking), belly bulge, breeding, top character, rambling author

Reader's gender is not specified and I dodged around mention of genitalia I think.

SFW: So so so- As I said before, this man activates my fucking neurons. The two braincells I have bouncing around in my head suddenly rub together to create a single thought. That single thought is about how hot he is??? Literally he doesn't have to do anything and he already has rizz 100. Would. Very much would.

But like real talk this danger noodle doesn't really change much when finally unlocks his new skin (lmfao don't pitchfork me I was kiDDING-)

Still seemingly calm (almost) all the time. Still mostly silent (at least when compared with people like March 7th). But if you're with him, then I think that there are subtle changes. When you're together, he doesn't just hover within your space. He'll be sitting next to you and that pretty tail of his will curl around you- maybe around your waist or just laid behind you and curled to lay across your lap. Doesn't admit it but he likes it when you pet his tail. :D

Scent marking!!! Any time you come back from somewhere after being gone for a bit or he does, he needs to scent mark you. Rubbing his neck along yours and purring (in my head dragons can purr fight me) while he smells the way your scent mingles with his (and the way that he covers up others' scents with his but he won't admit it). When you two are napping together and he cuddles with you, his tail will also wrap around you. Makes trying to get up to pee or even to start your day a bit hard. If you try to, he'll grumble and growl at you groggily without any real annoyance. Nips at your ear for waking him up before pulling you closer. His face gets a little hot when you laugh at his behavior.

NSFW:

So,,,, There are so many ways this can go. I oscillate between different head canons about his cock just on its own- Like does he have two? Is it/are they ribbed??? Is there knotting involved? E G G S ? All of the above???????? Honestly I'd take any and all of it or whatever combo it might be. I also believe in internal cock pouch thing supremacy. No I don't know what it's called but it is my reliGION PLEASE- Like y'all can't tell me it's not enticing. I am 100% a degenerate, but imagine him getting aroused and like you can see the way the slit of his pouch is a bit slick. The way he'd moan and grip the bedding with a white knuckled grip when you make your way down his body to mouth at it, tongue darting out to lick at it. Imagine licking into it to feel the tip of his cock (cocks??????) before gently sliding a finger in to feel around it/them. At some point you add more fingers to help your tongue coax your prize out of the sheath (thank god I remembered that word) and you get to feel the way his slick cock slowly fills your mouth even as your fingers work around it in the slit of said sheath. You'd have him choking on his own breath and twitching with his tail laying across your shoulders to wrap around your waist. Please bring his legs up on your shoulders and wrap your arms around them and hold down his hips. Something about it gets to him. :)))

I could always talk about bottom dragon Dan Heng if y'all want, but I will be sharing my brainrot about top Dan Heng today. (No it's totally not because of my preferences what are you talking about-)

Just like with Gepard, I stand by my idea that slipping a pretty plug in these men is a need not a want. Just that extra stimulation that will make him cum even more when he gets there.

I can see him being soft with you unless he's in rut. Yes I'm basic I like rut cycles fhisejo- When he's in rut, his nails are more like claws and his teeth are sharper. Maybe longer, too. Bet he has a big dick already but it's only bigger in rut. Really got that breeder cock, lol. Still has enough coherency to prep you by sliding his long tongue inside you. He can't use those fingers of his when they're tipped with claws, after all. Doesn't wanna hurt his baby. :((

He'll kiss around your hole before licking around the entrance to tease you, rubbing at your erogenous spots while he does so. Then he'll lick into you, thrusting his tongue in like it's a cock. Little by little he'll pry you open with his tongue until you're all sloppy and you swear his tongue is in your belly. All the while, he's been humping himself into the bed beneath him, desperately wishing it was you he was rocking into instead.

Once it's finally time to take you, I like to think that he'd flip you onto your stomach with your hips in the air and a hand pressing between your shoulderblades to keep your chest pinned to the bed. Slides his slick cock over your twitching hole before notching it on the rim of your entrance and slowly rutting into you. The fullness has you rolling your eyes back and whining while he coos at you how you're doing so well for him and you only have a little bit more you can take it-

Once he's fully seated, hips flush with your ass and cock twitching inside you, he'll bring a hand around to your belly to feel the bulge he made there. Presses on it a little to hear you squeak and watch you squirm beneath him. Starts a slow pace to make sure you're used to his stretching you open. But be warned- The moment he's sure that you are adjusted, he's pounding into you with panting breaths and barely contained drool. His teeth ache with the need to mark you up- Bite into your flesh to leave marks that would claim you as his. His hands are anchored to your hips in a tight grip that you're sure will be leaving bruises along with the claw marks. His girth and ribbed texture to his cock have you moaning and clawing at the bed. Loves watching the way his dick just disappears inside you; the stretch of your hole around him.

Once he finally spills his cum inside of you after several orgasms from you, it's hot and thick and there's just so much of it. He's moaning and growling behind you while he thrusts a few more times as it starts spurting out of him, all of them rough and hard thrusts. But then his hips are pressed so hard to yours that you wonder if you'll ever be able to remove them. He just needs to empty himself as deep into you as possible. We're going with the knotting idea today so the swelling knot you've slowly felt beginning to stretch you out and then knocking against your entrance has now been shoved inside of you, locking you two together and pressing relentlessly against sensitive spots inside of you. The pulsing you feel through the knot and his whole cock is not helping and it's making you squeeze around him so hard so your body can milk all of his cum from him. You swear all the cum is making the bump in your belly bigger after he's done pouring it all inside of you.

When he's in rut he just doesn't stop going. So maybe hours later, you have cum all over your thighs and there's so much dripping out of your well used hole that you're questioning where the hell it all came from. You smell so much like him and his cum and there's so much inside you that it sates some possessive part of his rut brain. Regardless of whether he can or can't breed you due to your or his biology (I'm not actually sure what goes on with Vidyadhara procreation or if they can even do that anymore iofsj-), the rut brain is telling him that he can and seeing your belly distended a bit with how much cum he fucked into you is soothing his dragon hind brain, lmfao. You're likely unable to form any thoughts at all when you two are done. You feel like you can't possibly cum anymore and even small amounts of stimulation have you whimpering and writhing. You have bite marks all over your neck and hips- Maybe even a few on your ass, lol. Inner thighs for sure, too. He might lick away your tears before kissing you. :'''''''''))

Both out and in rut, he's always sure to give aftercare. Cuddles is a big part of this. Purring and other rumbling sounds as he envelopes you in an embrace that once again includes his tail curling around you protectively. Likes to sleep with his knot still in you, cock still pulsing as his cum continues to fill you. Maybe he likes to rub at your belly where that bulge is. Tells you about how good you did- Such a good mate for him. His precious mate.

P.S. I like the idea so I think he'd maybe also shove his tongue down your throat while fucking you. And I mean that more literally than you think. I mean it is long- The way you choke on it while kissing him with tears welling in your eyes does something to him. The filthy slide of it as if fucking your throat with it and all the drool swapping from his mouth to yours and vice versa.

If there are any typos then my apologies big dawg LMFAO.

There's so much space in my brain taken up by this man alone.

Considering starting to do requests and asks. I guess lemme know if people want that?????

#hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng smut #top character #gn reader #I THINK??? #HELP??? #I am very unconfident yall pls- #Roro writes #dragon dan heng

[melonn-soda]

IM BEGGING... JOUNO X MALE READER...JEALOUSY HEADCANNONS!! nsfw + sfw???

❝ JOUNO X M! READER N/SFW HCs... ❞

Order Up~!

word count: n/a

warning(s): torture & murder, sex, degradation, slut shaming I wanna say, sub bottom male reader, dom top jouno

prompt: self-explanatory

note: I guess I could squeeze this in between writing kinktober. I also don't listen to a lick of Kpop since I hate the industry but Jung kook's song "Seven" is actually crazy what the fuck

fem aligned dni

SFW but kinda not

jouno denies being a jealous person but the way he acts whenever you get too friendly with someone makes him way too obvious

there was a time where you were helping another citizen and he could hear their heartbeat pick up suddenly just from you asking if they were okay

the longer the civilian talked to you, the more he got annoyed with their stuttering heartbeat

he eventually suggested you help out someone else while he threateningly asked if they needed anything else

if things get a little too far, he wouldn't hesitate to torture or even kill a person

someone did end up getting a little touchy with you and he got so pissed he kept that person in the hq's basement (pretend they have one) and starved them to near death

but he still denies being a jealous because he's jouno

if you're friends with tetchou he'll mask his jealousy a bit since he doesn't want you getting upset because he told tetchou off and made him sad

he will listen (and pretend he doesn't care) when you tell him to not worry about other people coming after you

however you never said he still couldn't not chain people up and whip them into promising to not talk to you again

"I am so sorry about him, he just has a little issue in his brain that makes him think this is okay." you apologized, bowing with your hand on your chest. jouno stood there his his arms crossed over his chest and leaning on his left leg, scoffing in disapproval.

"little!?" the citizen exclaimed angrily, "I think your coworker has more a little issue! he's fucking insane! insane, I tell you!!"

they ran away with fear in their eyes, you looking back up with a worried look before it turned into a glare directed at your boyfriend. you just wished jouno could tone it down far more than this.

"what the hell is wrong with you, jouno?" you snarled at the white-haired man, whose head turned in your direction.

his hand was briefly on your waist before he tugged you to press against his body, "what? I just showed them the consequence of stealing what's mine."

"you nearly broke their fucking arm!" you retorted back, "if I hadn't stepped in before anything more happened, you would've ended up killing them!" by grabbing a fistful of his uniform, you yanked his head to your level.

"mm, yeah, but you love that sadistic part of me," he quickly pecked your lips and left knowing that you weren't going to deny it anyway.

NSFW

would punish you harshly depending on the person

more aggressive if that person is tetchou

one time, during a mission, the venue a married couple rented out was playing music for the dance floor and tetchou really wanted to dance

jouno didn't want to dance because it was embarrassing but you decided to dance with tetchou to lower any suspicions people may have laid on you three

so, you and tetchou danced together, laughing and a couple of times tetchou swung and spun you around

some people remarked how cute you both were together and to say jouno was infuriated is an understatement

when the two of you got off the dance floor, jouno pulled you out of the area and into a nearby alley to fuck the brains out of you without any explanation

because jouno is canonically sadistic, he would pull some bdsm stuff on you like: bondage, sensory depravation, spanking, handcuffing (always has a pair of cuffs on him), edgeplay, biting, breath play, collaring, hair pulling, humiliation, most of the terms under impact play

does most of this stuff behind the closed doors of your shared home but if he's feeling especially brutal he might just do it in public if you're fine with it

LOTS of petnames ranging from "love" to "slut" but he loves calling you "doll"

even so, jouno can be pretty mean when it comes to punishments

a loud whimper ripped through your throat as jouno's gloved hand came down in harsh contact against your thigh, damn near your dick. although, the sound came slightly muffled because of the ball gag in your mouth, drool spilling from the edge of your mouth.

"you should've thought twice before pulling something like that, doll." jouno scowled, tightening the leather straps on your ankles but loose enough to leave you some wiggle room.

he walked to the side of the bed and grabbed another vibrator from the nightstand, pressing it against the tip of your dick and adjusting the cock ring currently on you. you continued to complain about all the stimulation albeit unintelligible.

jouno had almost all the toys you both owned taped onto so many parts of your body: nipple clamps, a vibrating dildo, leather bindings, a collar, a blindfold, the ball gag, and now the vibrator and cock ring. it was almost too much for you. and what caused this? you spent the whole day with tetchou instead of jouno.

jouno grabbed a riding crop and smacked it against your other thigh this time, "what's the matter, doll?" he jeered, fingers brushing against your shin, tickling you as his fingers travelled up to your knee, "wanna cum?"

you nodded rapidly, tears rolling down your face from how long you've been edged from the cock ring and jouno suddenly removing all stimulants when you were on the brink of ecstasy. just one orgasm would've been enough to satisfy you.

"too bad. you just can't seem to remember who you belong to, slut." jouno let out a mocking laugh at your pitiful state, "sorry, doll, you aren't getting that release any time soon."

I had fun writing this

#bottom male reader #bungou stray dogs #male reader #x bottom male reader #x male reader #bsd #bsd x male reader #bsd jouno #jouno saigiku #bungou stray dogs x male reader #sub male reader #jouno x reader #jouno x male reader #saigiku jouno #jouno bsd

[jeannineee]

jeannine i NEED a “what it would be like to date them” with your aot faves 😍😍😍😍

Dating the Attack on Titan Men

author's notes: just some headcanons!! divider credit to @/cafekitsune. ty @cassiefromhell for the help w your man levi. requests are open <3

warnings: includes sfw AND nsfw so minors DNI. slight modern!au vibes at some points?

Eren Jaeger

SFW:

It likely goes without saying, but Eren is very protective over you. You are his number one priority, always.

Definitely the jealous type, sometimes to a fault. He knows you can handle your own, but his own insecurity will have him pulling you into his arms, not-so-subtly glaring at whomever you were speaking with until they get the hint.

Steals your hair ties for his own hair. Will also deny stealing said hair ties.

Very physically affectionate. Literally always touching you, be it a hand on your knee, an arm draped around your shoulders.

Since we're on the topic of physical touch being his love language, Eren is v clingy as a result. He's almost always with you, and when he's not, he's regularly checking in on you.

NSFW:

Dirty talk is on a different level. This man is sooo vocal. Tons of praise, with a tiny hint of degradation. ABSOLUTELY talks you through it.

"So good for me, baby. Just like that." "Gonna cum for me? Yeah, that's it." PHEW

Prefers to be dominant. Even if you're riding him, he's still controlling the pace. He loves the glazed-over look in your eyes; the way you go pliant for him.

Tends to be more on the rough side. Lots of biting and marking. Definitely holds your hips and thighs tight enough to bruise.

veryyyyy teasing and unfair. will absolutely edge you till you're crying, and then overstimulate you till you can't think.

he'll let you get your revenge, though, occasionally.

very doting and attentive when it comes to aftercare; a full 180 compared to the way he manhandled you only minutes before.

Jean Kirstein

SFW:

this man is absolutely whipped for you. has no problem admitting it, either.

he is your number one hypeman. always tells you how much he loves you, how beautiful you are, how pretty your outfit is. he's annoyed your friends about it, too--he just doesn't shut the fuck up about you.

he looooves when you use petnames for him. Babe, baby, honey, sweetheart. He doesn't care. He's a sucker for all of it.

is definitely the type to speak up if you're too shy to do so. waiter put your order in wrong? he's asking them to fix it. someone made a snarky comment at the bar? it'll be their last.

he definitely needs reassurance that you love and want him. he is more insecure than he lets on.

NSFW:

say it with me: pleasure dom.

"just one more, baby. you can do it." and it is never just one more.

praise KING. "such a good girl." "taking me so well." " you look so pretty on your knees for me."

not much of a tease, simply because he can't deny you. the moment you give him those puppy eyes, or a breathy "please" falls from your lips? he's done for.

overstimulation is one of his favorite things. he'll draw orgasm after orgasm from you until you're utterly spent. you're exhausted every time but his aftercare is the best.

LOVES eating you out. Will use any excuse to do so. He'll hold your hands too, if only to keep you from yanking on his hair. (Not that he minds.)

Levi Ackerman

SFW:

i personally think his love language is acts of service. Levi isn't very touchy. Nor is he the best with words. Instead, he shows his love by doing things for you. Cooking, cleaning, doing anything to help take the weight off of your shoulders.

Also remembers the tiniest details about you. How you like your coffee or tea. Your nighttime ritual to help you sleep. He'll remember the shirt you couldn't take your eyes off of at the store, and then it's suddenly on your bed a few days later.

Levi tends be a worrywart. It's subtle, though. Reprimanding you for forgetting to lock your car. Reminding you to drink water because he doesn't want you to get a headache. Scolding you when you skip breakfast.

Isn't very into PDA. If you're someone who needs touch, he'll at least hold your hand, or keep his hand on the small of your back as the two of you walk.

NSFW:

remember how i said levi memorizes the little things about you? this translates into the bedroom. when the two of you start having sex, he will learn everything that makes you tick.

not much of a talker. groans a lot, but will bury his face in the crook of your neck to try and stifle it.

isn't all that into degradation, but will definitely humiliate you.

"making such a mess, and i've barely touched you." "gonna cum already? that's too bad." "so needy for me, aren't you?"

rough sex when he's jealous or angry? me thinks yes.

gives the best aftercare. will give you a massage and a warm bath. cuddles you till you fall asleep.

#attack on titan #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot #smut #fluff #shingeki no kyojin

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Twitter 𝘽𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂: 𝙄𝙏'𝙎 𝘼 𝙎𝘾𝘼𝙉𝘿𝘼𝙇!!

In celebration of reaching 3,000 followers on Tumblr, it seems ayyypee has decided to host her very first collab!!! The theme is Celebrity Scandal!

What are your favorite celebrity anime men, women or you (the reader) up to these days? New relationships? Maybe a nasty breakup or divorce. Cheating? Leaks, Murder, Cover ups?! There's so much to report on and so little time. But rest assured, The Jujutsu Journal will find out. Someone is always watching.

Status: OPEN

𝙍𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨

✩˚｡⋆ This is an 18+ collab! Minors dni

✩˚｡⋆ All characters portrayed must be 18+ (No aging up of minor characters pls, but if there is a canon timeskip, that's fine. Just write them as their adult selves.)

✩˚｡⋆ It does not have to be only an x Reader pairing!

✩˚｡⋆ Open to ANY fandom (Even though it says Jujutsu Journal lol)

✩˚｡⋆ You can join with as many fandoms and as many characters as you wish

✩˚｡⋆ Both NSFW and SFW works are allowed!

✩˚｡⋆ If you use any topics that need a warning, please use warnings and tag appropriately!

✩˚｡⋆ That being said, dark content is fine as long as it is not any of the following: Non-con, r*pe, beastiality, incest/stepcest, pedophilia

✩˚｡⋆ No particular format or word length required. And you can even do art! Just let me know what you’ll be doing!

𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙊 𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍

✩˚｡⋆ To join, please send me an ask, or you can dm me! Also I'm nosy so let me know what your idea(s) are! Like Stalker!Paparazzi Sukuna x Reader LMAO)

✩˚｡⋆ The deadline for submission for the collab is June 30th

✩˚｡⋆ I would also REALLY appreciate it if people reblogged this post so that it's boosted!

✩˚｡⋆ Please tag me in your works and use the tag: #JujutsuJournal after you're done. I'll add it to my Masterlist and reblog it on my account! I know the tagging system is bonkers right now though, so if tagging doesn't work, you can just send me an ask.

✩˚｡⋆ If you have any other questions, just let me know!

𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙂𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙥 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙢𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙍𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘿𝙪𝙩𝙮:

JUJUTSU KAISEN

@ayyy-pee - model!shokoieiri x model!ioriutahime x videographer!reader

@tojiscumdumpster - stalker!model!naoya x journalist!blackreader

@bungalowbear - stuntman!toji x actress!reader

@lost-immortality - DELICIOUS FANART (Characters updated later)

@lemonlover1110 - toji x reader, sukuna x reader

@xo2dee - actress!yuki x actress!reader

@yasu-1234 - tailor!higuruma x movie star!reader

@fizee - Non Disclosure Agreement - ceo!naoya x femdom!reader

@mysteria157 - celebrity chef!reader x food critic!nanami

@toasted-ry3bread - nanami x actress!reader

@pattycakes5516 - probasketballplayer!suguru x criticalsportsanalyst!reader

@kentocalls - manager!geto x idol!reader, farmer!satoru gojo x actress!reader

@violetsaffron5 - nepo-babystalker!gojo x reader

@hyperfixationsporfavor - actor!sugurugeto x director!reader

@brujawrites - nepobaby!gojo x interviewpersonality!reader

©ayyypee, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, reupload or modify my work to other accounts and platforms. please ask before translating any of my works!

Banner Credit: @benkeibear!

#JujutsuJournal #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #anime smut #fanfic collab #anime x reader #naoya x black reader #naoya zenin x black reader #jjk x black reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #yuki x reader #yuki tsukumo x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #nanami kento x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #shoko x reader #shoko ieiri x reader #utahime x reader

[mncxbe]

𝐟𝐰𝐛 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐮, 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: tysm for your sweet message nonnie♡ you're really sweet and yes i'm doing well. i made some hc for them separate and together (for silly) and also added some sfw stuff. enjoy!

𝒄𝒘: lowkey mean jouno (he calls you little slut), choking, mentions of breath play and other kinks, pussy slapping, orgasm denial, creampie, power dynamics if you squint

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑ ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑ ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨

assuming you're part of the hunting dogs, the first time you two hook up is after a stressful mission. you just needed to blow off some steam but had a surprisingly good time so you agreed to be friends with benefits from then on

he prefers to meet at his place cuz he feels more in control that way. plus I see him using handcuffs and toys so it's easier that way

Jouno is a dom. unless he's too tired after a mission he won't sub. he gets off to mentally overpowering and degrading you. also be prepared for some intense sessions

ofc he can be sweet and gentle if you ask him to but he generally prefers rougher sex. that way it doesn't feel like you two make love (what's that emotional intimacy? nuh uh)

he does like to experiment with different kinks. he's super into breath play and blindfolding you. also orgasm denial. makes you call him sir

honorable mentions: he actually respects your boundaries and the aftercare is surprisingly nice. outside of the bedroom he's very professional and respectful but if you tease or upset him he's gonna get back to you

overall experiemce: 8/10 cuz he sometimes takes it too far and he's a bit mean

You were about to leave the break room when Jouno barged in, slamming the door shut.

"Oh hi Jouno everything alri–"

Before you could finish your sentence his gloved hand was wrapped around your throat. "You little brat. You've got some nerve don't ya?" He pulled your face impossibly closer to his as he jammed his thigh between your legs, pressing your back against the table behind you. "Think you're so smart mouthing off during the meeting, asking Fukuchi for more teambuildings because me and Tecchou can't get along?"

You tried to pry his hand off your neck but he only tightened his grip, making your vision blur "Jouno p-please I didn't mean it like that" you babbled out, earning a chuckle from the man. "Oh I know how you meant it. You're just chasing that praise aren't ya, you little slut. You think I can't tell how giddy you get when someone tells you you've got a good idea or you did a good job?"

Jouno's leg pressed against your core and you instinctively shifted your hips, seeking some sort of friction. Despite the situation you were in you couldn't help but feel worked up and Jouno could tell, his own bulge forming in his pants. His hand moved from your neck to your jaw, squeezing it harshly "Since you're so concerned about the well being of our team, how about you tell the others how well we get along? How you moan my name every night and fuck yourself stupid on my cock?"

"'m sorry Jouno" you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks. "Oh I know you are, pretty. So how about you show it, hm?" The man grabbed your hips, hoisting you up on the table before pulling down your uniform pants and discarding them on the floor. "Let me eat you out"

"But Jouno we're at work..." you fumbled, squeezing your thighs together but he quickly pried them open, positioning himself between your legs. You would've lied if you said that seeing him on his knees in front of you– for you, didn't make your core tighten.

"And?" he retorted, brushing his fingers over the damp spot on your panties "That doesn't seem to stop you from soaking your underwear. Does it turn you on, knowing that anyone could walk in on us? Or are you just that desperate for me?"

You became even more embarrased after hearing his words and looked away, biting down on your lip. Jouno pulled your underwear to the side, running his fingertips along your slit– he could smell your arousal and it was making his head spin as he rubbed little circles on your needy clit before slapping it harshly. "I expect you to answer when I ask you a question, brat"

The sudden contact made your body jolt and you immediately nodded "Yes, Jouno– I mean sir. Yes sir I really need you right now. Need you to touch me"

"Do you?" he taunted, taking off his glove and pushing a finger inside your cunt, curling it perfectly against your sweet spot. "Yes I– oh God" you mewled as he lightly sucked on your clit. You took off his cap and carefully placed it next to you before one of your hand found its way into his hair, pulling him closer to your needy cunt.

Jouno ate you out like a starved man, his lips latched on your clit and his slender fingers curled oh so nicely inside you, hitting your sweet spot and making whines and moans spill from your lips. It didn't take long for you to reach your high, feeling a familiar knot tightening in your abdomen but before you could cum Jouno got up to his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sai..." you whined, pouting at the man but he only chuckled "Serves you right. Maybe next time you won't forget your place."

He reached for his hat, placing it back on his head. "Don't worry, sweets, I'll take good care of you tonight if you behave." Jouno gave your thigh a light pat before walking out of the room, leaving you aching for more. God, he was such an ass sometimes...

𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐮

he's a bit reluctant at first cuz he doesn't really get the point of it– Tecchou doesn't have the highest sex drive, but he's really flattered that you find him attractive enough to ask him to be fwb

he's really sweet and gentle with you, takes his time to learn what you like. praises you a lot too and overall focuses on your pleasure above all

the sex itself is pretty vanilla so don't expect him to be rough like Jouno but if you want to experiment he's open

Tecchou is a true switch. he's fine with anything as long as you feel good– you wanna top him? sure. you want him to fold you in half and manhandle you? that works perfectly fine too

aftercare is mostly him talking to you about stuff in his life and although he shouldn't, he lets you spend the night if you're too tired to go home or it's too late

that's why he actually gets attached after a while and starts developing feelings for you. but he does a good job at keeping them hidden because he doesn't wanna ruin your arrangement or make you feel uncomfortable (until he inevitably confesses them in the heat of the moment)

overall 10/10 experience

You've been friends with benefits with Tecchou for a couple of months now and things couldn't have been better. He treated you better than any of your exes have and actually knew what he was doing in bed. As for now, Tecchou had you laying on your back with the top of your thighs pressed against your chest, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each deep thrust.

" 'chou–" you whined, pretty nails digging into his wrists as you tried to ground yourself "too much 's too much". The man only grunted in response, his eyes squeezing shut as he kept rolling his hips against yours. "Relax, angel, just relax ah– you're s-so tight like this"

Tecchou was on cloud nine, completely lost in the feeling of your walls clenching down around him, pushing him to another orgasm. He'd already came once, his cum pooling in a creamy ring at the base of his cock, but he just couldn't stop now– not until he had you writhing underneath him.

Ever since the two of you started hooking up, pleasing you has become his top priority. You were just too precious, so sweet and kind to him, so patient when he told you that he doesn't really have that much experience when it comes to sex. Work took up most of his time so he never had the chance to have a proper relationship, let alone be intimate with someone else. But still you taught him everything he needed to know about pleasing a woman. It didn't take him too long to realize he'd fallen for you but he never said anything to you about it– too afraid to ruin what the two of you had. So he simply cherished these moments when he has you all to himself, moaning his name and clinging to him as is he were the last thing that kept you together.

"Hiro– Hiro baby ah fuck– there right there" you babbled out, your back arching off of the mattres to offer him a better angle. Your shaky fingers moved to your clit, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive bud as your eyes fluttered shut. God, you were so beautiful like this.

Tecchou's strong arms almost gave out when he felt your cunt squeezing down on him and he grabbed your legs, pulling the backs of your thighs flush against his abdomen. His face was basically buried between your calves as he started moving again, making you gasp. It was overwhelming in the best way possible– you could feel every ridge of his cock as he dragged it in and out of your gummy walls and it was driving you over the edge. "Oh God oh God i'm close s-so so close" you mumbled, pressing your tits together as you locked gazes with the man in front of you.

Maddening. It was utterly maddening. Tecchou swore he could spend the rest of his life fucking you like this and he wouldn't have any regrets. His eyes moved to your tits– so prettily bouncing with each of his thrusts despite your best efforts to keep them still and your face. Oh your face; blissed out with your plushy lips quivering as he pushed you closer to your high. With his own orgasm threatening to wash over him, Tecchou tightened his grip on your legs, hugging them closer to his body as he nuzzled his face between your calves, peppering them with kisses "You're so, so beautiful angel ah s-shit I could look at you all day long. M-my pretty girl love you, love you so much ah fuck—"

His sudden confession made the tight knot in your belly snap and you gushed around him, coating his length and abdomen in your slick. " 'chou please 'm all yours. want you to fill me up" you mewled and Tecchou's vision went white. That was all it took for him to cum again. A loud, broken groan spilling from his lips as his hips halted, his cum pooling inside you. When he eventually pulled out with a wet pop his cum seeped out of your hole, dribbling down onto the damp mattress.

You were both breathless, staring blankly at one another. "So um..." you said eventually, cutting through the awkward silence "You like me, now?"

"Yea, I guess I do." confessed the man, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Do you mind it?"

"Why would I mind it, Tecchou?" you giggled, motioning him to lay next to you and he obliged. Wrapping your arms around him, you cuddled yourself close to his chest, breathing in his musky scent. "I mean, I kinda like you too. You're really sweet."

Tecchou smiled, his pretty amber eyes lighting up. He quickly pressed a kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on top of your head "I'm glad then. Maybe we can talk about it when we wake up?"

"Mhm, sure" you sighed contently before drifting off to sleep, leaving Tecchou with a pounding heart and that dumb, lovesick smile on his face.

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐱 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐮

Jouno makes a very detailed schedule because god forbid you spend more time with Tecchou

it's a competition, really– who makes you cum more times and they always discuss it at work. Jouno's a bit petty

"So, Tecchou. How did it go with y/n last night?"

"Pretty well actually."

"Oh yea? Well I made her squirt two times the night before so I bet you didn't do that well"

if Jouno ever gets jealous of Tecchou prepare for some hate sex♡ and for him to leave hickeys all over your tits and thighs so Tecchou knows who you actually belong to (yea, he gets a bit posessive)

Tecchou is very normal about it

if you ask them nicely enough they may agree to a threesome. but oh boy prepare for a sleepless night (+100% sure they kiss too)

it'd basically go like this

yes I did shamelessly reference a previous post because I have exams tomorrow and sadly couldn't write more

#𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑ #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd headcanons #bsd tecchou #suehiro tecchou #tecchou x reader #tecchou smut #bungou stray dogs tecchou #jono bsd #jouno smut #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku #bsd jouno #tetchou x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #hunting dogs bsd #bsd

[deathbxnny]

hello, gallagher aventurine and dr ratio with an asuka!reader?

(teen!reader who despite being a kid, acts grown up and wants to be seen as an adult)

As someone who absolutely LOVES Asuka (Although Rei is still my all-time favorite, and idk what that says about me lmao-) I absolutely adore this request, Anon!! So thank you so much for this ask, and I hope you'll like this!<33

Content: Platonic relationships, slight angst, older brother figures hsr men, teen reader, vague mentions of potential childhood trauma regarding reader, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》GALLAGHER

Gallagher found your rather bratty behavior quite amusing, which is why he simply played along at first. You often helped him out in the bar and it was kind of funny to see you trying to act like an adult, even going as far as ordering him around.

He knew that it was most likely all because of an underlying issue from your past, but he wasn't the type to confront you on it immideatly. Instead, he simply let you do your thing whilst making sure you were still having fun deep down.

He also makes sure to let you know that you can talk to him whenever you want to open up or just need some advice on things. He's patient and has all the time in the world for you. And even if you never open up to him, he'll make sure that your life is relatively easy anyway, so that you can still be a kid in peace.

》DR. RATIO

Both of you are awfully stubborn, and it shows whenever you two get into a daily argument over the most smallest things. He knows something is wrong with you deep down, but he also just doesn't have the patience needed whenever you tell him off again for daring to insinuate that you are indeed still just a child. And yet, as frustrated as he can get sometimes, he still tries his best to be the bigger person in the end. He is above arguing with a kid... but God do you make it hard sometimes to keep that up.

With that said, he tries to compromise with your need to feel like an adult by simply giving you much harder subject matters that are way above your grade level. And unsurprisingly to him ofcourse, this seemed to work and quell your angers.

You really just wanted to be respected as an equal to him, and so he let you work up to it, knowing you'd get there eventually.

》AVENTURINE

Similar to Gallagher, he finds your attitude rather amusing at first, although there was still some seriousness in him regarding your situation. You were hellbent on being seen as an adult, so much so that you'd talk back, get into fights and ignore all his orders just for a slither of recognition from him. You thought that all of this would make you into an adult, but alas, it just made you look more like the hurt child you were deep down.

After observing your behavior for a while, Aventurine eventually makes his move and calmly asks you why you want to be an adult so badly over a game of cards. He knew he'd be met with alot of attitude at first, but when he dug deeper, he finally figured out that you simply wanted to be taken seriously. He reassures you afterward that he never doubted your abilities, as he let's you win for the first time ever.

Alrighttttt!! I hope this was okay, Anon, and thank you again for your request!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr x y/n #hsr gallagher x reader #hsr gallagher #gallagher x reader #gallagher x you #dr. ratio #dr. ratio x reader #dr. ratio x you #hsr dr ratio #ratio x reader #ratio x you #veritas ratio #hsr veritas #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine hsr

[doobea]

SWEET / I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE - NAGI SEISHIRO

synopsis: Your boyfriend doesn't realize how important little things are to you until it's a bit too late.

contents: established relationship, slight hurt and comfort??, slight jealousy, sfw, nagi struggling trying to process emotional needs of others - what else is new, also nagi centric, college au, mentions of fraternity formals, gn!reader, idk i hc'd nagi to be a compsci major but up to debate ig word count: 1.6K a/n: title is based off of tyler the creators song hehe its my fav from his album and omg thank u nagi for breaking me out of this writer's block, inspired by @celestair for the idea!!

Nagi hadn't really expected you to get so excited about attending his chapter formal. Hell, he didn't even know that they were going to have one in the first place if it weren't for Reo bringing it up in a passing conversation last week in your dorm room.

"We should go!" You said, and he remembers you hopping out of your seat, abandoning your assignment, and dashing immediately towards your closet for an outfit.

"Should we?" Nagi questioned, a frown creeping its way to his lips.

Reo slumped his arm over Nagi's shoulder, tugging the male slightly into his chest. "C'mon, why are you even paying the dues if you don't attend our events?" Reo sounded annoyed.

Nagi shrugged and went back to his phone, resuming the level of whatever popular gacha game that was released for that month. "Because you said it would look good on my resume or something." He answered flatly.

Of course, Nagi knew that he couldn't say no to this. As much as he would love to, once you and Reo were both set on something it's almost impossible to try and coax you two out of it. Nagi is pretty sure that this formal is going to be the bane of his college existence and that his computer science classes are, arguably, now the easiest part.

"It's too loud in here." Nagi wanted to go home the moment he stepped out of his best friend's rented limo. He feels too stiff with the suit he's currently wearing, the cologne is starting to overwhelm his senses, and he really didn't like the fact there's already a fuckton of people inside the venue.

Everything feels too congested.

The three of you take a seat at a table shared by Nagi's other 'brothers' and their dates. He really doesn't remember anyone's faces aside from maybe one or two from his classes, so he's confused when a handful of them start greeting him with fist bumps. All of which he awkwardly returns. Something about long-living brotherhood? Nagi didn't quite catch what they said.

"Do you guys want anything to drink?" Reo shouts over the music as he starts to get up.

"A cranberry vodka would be nice." You gently tug on Nagi's sleeve, attempting to break his unyielding attention from his phone. Reo had set a rule before they left, and it's a mobile game and social media app ban at the table. So, naturally, Nagi is stuck analyzing the weather app. "Do you want anything, Sei?"

Looks like tomorrow there's going to be a slight chance of rain which is pretty awesome, he thinks.

"Hm? Oh, whatever you're having, I guess."

Nagi misses the way your smile fades. "Um, make that two cranberry vodkas?"

"Ah," Reo stumbles around with his words for a bit before nodding away. "Sure, be back in a minute."

"Sei," Your voice is closer this time, lips almost pressed up to his ears to minimize the booming music in the background. "Wanna go on the dance floor later?"

Nagi pauses his thumb, hovering over a random European map, and he's already internally shrinking from the idea. "Do I have to?"

You laugh, it sounds a little forced. "Only if you're up for it."

He shrugs and eyes the surrounding area. The dance floor looks semi-packed at the moment and everyone looks equally semi-buzzed. Sitting at the table sounds better in his head. "I think I'll stay here but you can go on ahead."

"Oh," You exhale through your nose and laugh again. "Okay, if that's what you want!"

"Mhm," He hums back and settles his head down at the table, feeling almost exhausted despite not having to do much today.

Nagi doesn't notice that he's alone at the table until the DJ starts signaling everyone in the venue to pay attention to a couple on the dance floor. He only looks up when he hears Reo's name getting called out and starts to straighten his back when he sees you dancing hand in hand with him. The sight leaves Nagi gnawing the insides of his cheeks.

"Hey," Nagi turns to see two of his fraternity brothers looking at him with a bit of concern and he's not sure why that's making him feel uneasy.

"You good there?" Isagi asks, careful to sound casual, but Nagi picks up on it.

"What?" Nagi frowns, connecting the dots together. "It's fine. I don't really care about them doing stuff together anyway." It's a vague statement. Maybe purposefully vague.

"Eh? You sure about that, Nagi?" Bachira presses.

Nagi frowns again, tips his head down, and is in deep thought. "I'm actually not sure." He finally admits. Nagi is currently fighting off a weird feeling in his stomach. Maybe it's just the drink he had earlier.

He's always been fine with Reo keeping you company whenever he isn't in the mood. Whether it be eating with you in the dining halls, attending movies together, going to the mall, and so forth. Dancing isn't off the list either. He's seen the two of you dance before but isn't sure why this is setting him off. Maybe it's the thought of you being happier without him in your life that is eating him away.

"Shit, he's walking over."

"Waah, let's go!"

It doesn't occur to Nagi that Reo's in front of him until his best friend clears his throat. Reo puts a hand on Nagi's shoulder and gives him one of those looks. A look that insinuates something big that he can't place a finger on but knows it's full of negative nuance.

"Don't be an ass right now," is all that Reo says.

"An ass?" Nagi echoes.

He allows Reo to tug him out of his seat and Nagi almost feels lethargic from how long he's been sitting down. A final push towards the edge of the dance floor is when he catches your sullen figure.

"I'm surprised that you haven't caught on," Reo continues after a while. Nagi recognizes the tone. He doesn't say anything more, and Nagi appreciates it that much, at least.

It's funny how much his mood is able to shift. First from feeling annoyed, to borderline sleepy, to determined. Nagi thinks he's finally learning how to read his relationship with you.

It's only when he's inches apart that he realizes that you're on the verge of tears. Nagi instinctively reaches out his hands and softly cups your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs across in his attempt to calm you.

What's wrong, he wants to ask but he already knows the answer to that. He feels bad for complaining all week, but he feels even worse for essentially abandoning your needs for god knows how long.

Nagi chews on his lips as a new idea starts to brew. It's an uncharacteristic idea. An idea that pushes him to become a new version of himself—the person he wants to be but struggling to understand.

"Hey," Nagi calls out your name slowly. "Can I dance with you?" You open your mouth—probably to say it's okay and you'd rather not make him uncomfortable—but Nagi continues before you can get a word in, before your tears start falling. "I'm sorry, I should've paid closer attention." He says in a whisper.

You fall silent and Nagi is wondering if he's said something he shouldn't have. He quietly peers over at Reo who's aggressively nodding his head, throwing a thumbs up across the room. You shift awkwardly in place before giving Nagi a faint smile.

"I would like that," You sound a little hesitant, but surprisingly welcoming to the suggestion. "I mean, if you're okay with it?"

"Don't worry about what I think, you've done plenty for me already." And he means it.

Nagi migrates his hands from your face to your waist as the music shifts to something slower, more tender, and sweet. It's obvious to everyone in the room that you two are a little nervous and it's almost laughable. He's been dating you just shy of a year and has never once offered to dance with you. It comes as no shock to him that you're growing shy under his touch and movements, despite being together countless times. This feels different to Nagi, and he's positive you're thinking the same thing.

It takes a while, maybe because you're both getting used to this foreign feeling, but you eventually wrap your arms around his neck and hug closer to his body. Somehow, that short circuits Nagi's brain and he freezes in place.

"Sei, is everything alright?"

There's a wave of guilt that washes over his eyes. This act is weighing Nagi down, more than he wants to admit, and he has to pull away. Eyes glued to the ground because if he looks at you he'll start to feel nervous, confused, and small.

"Sorry, I'm... trying my best."

"Sei, it's okay." It's your turn to rub your hands across his cheeks and he doesn't realize that he's flushed in the face until you comment. "You're warm."

"Sorry," He doesn't know why he's apologizing again. For being flustered? Not knowing how to dance? Or afraid of disappointing you again? He thinks it's a mixture of all three.

"Hey, as long as you're trying then I'm proud of you." You reply with ease.

You're always kind to him. Most times, you don't push him more than what he's willing to give and maybe that's why he's comfortable around you. Even if he does know you're silently judging his actions but it's okay, because it's you. But he also knows that he's been taking advantage of this trait and it sucks having to find this out tonight.

Nagi nods. You're right, he doesn't need to worry about anything else but you in this moment.

#bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #doobea writing #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons #nagi seishiro #nagi seishrio x reader #wow nagi debut on my blog #i hope hes not too ooc here #dating guys like nagi requires uuh a lot of communication ig #i mean look what he did to reo #blue lock scenarios #blue lock fluff

[drizztdohurtin]

BG3 Tiefling Purring Headcanons

okay guys i'm so fucking serious right now I was working on my general tiefling headcanons post and I got to the purring part and I was like.... I literally have to make this its own post because I have SO MUCH to say

if anyone gets particularly inspired by any of my headcanons and decides to write something involving it, PLEASE send it to me so I can read it, or tag me in the comments or something <333333

NSFW under the cut -- MDNI

SFW

purring is a reflection of emotions the majority of the time, but it can be done both voluntarily and involuntarily

i think of it like a deep rumbling at the bottom of the throat where you feel your two collarbone bumps, and you can physically feel the rumbling if you were to put a hand on their chest or neck

some have louder 'default' purrs than others, but if they focus on it then they can manipulate the volume

my overarching concept for their purring has to do with the idea that it's mainly used for comfort

my absolute favorite purring hc that I've thought of is that it's used to soothe their babies!

if a parent tiefling is holding their distressed, crying baby, they will automatically purr to comfort them

I also think that they will use it to comfort other people that they're very close to when they're really upset

going back to the baby thing, I believe this kind of purr will almost always be an instinct...

okay bear with me for a second.... you know how people who breastfeed (STAY WITH ME) their bodies automatically know what nutrients to put more or less of in the milk based on their baby's needs? it's like that.

no matter the sex of the parent, their body automatically knows how it should purr to best comfort their baby (think of pitch, volume, and the resonance of the vibrations)

but I think this instinct goes away after their child is around the age of 7 or 8 -- and it doesn't apply to what I said earlier about purring to comfort people they're close to

NEXT: they purr to comfort themselves <3333

It sorta depends on the person, some might be quicker to do it than others, doing it even when they're just mildly upset, and others only doing it in the most extreme circumstances

NEXT ☝ obviously it's also a sign of extreme comfort or contentment <33333

I love a good fluff moment, thinking about one of our beloved tiefling NPCs cuddled up with their significant other and they're just so deep in their happy place that they start to purr

generally, I think of the concept of purring to be an emotionally intimate thing - so it's not to be done for just anyone

they use it for their babies, their loved ones, and anyone else that's very close to them,

it'd be rare to do it for just anyone, even if they're a friend... they'd have to be a very, very close friend

because of this, each type of purr will sound different in some way

Alright, let's take this party down below

NSFW

speaking of being extremely contented, they might purr in bed heh

because purring is an intimate thing, purring in sexually intimate situations would only happen in established relationships

they also might purr when they're trying to initiate sex, but this would be accompanied by feeling up their partner/giving them suggestive kisses or bites on their neck, or something similar

this "suggestive purr" would be light and hushed, hard to pick up on by anyone outside of a radius of 2-3 feet, as it's meant only for their partner to hear/feel

☝ take a minute to imagine your tiefling lover walking up to you and giving you a kiss, feeling the lightest flutter of a purr from their chest as they press a few gentle kisses to your temple, cheek, and jaw, then giving you bedroom eyes... maybe nuzzling their nose against yours or against your neck........ good god.

now, purrs of pleasure during the act having a much wider range of pitch and intensity

I offer you a brief description of a blurb that I often see in my head before falling asleep: Rolan going down on reader/tav, instinctively purring because he loves doing it so much (fear not, I will definitely talk more about this in my rolan nsfw headcanons &lt;333)

the general takeaway is that when they feel great pleasure (physically, mentally, and/or emotionally) you might earn a purr from them

the caveat to that, though, is that they would only be able to do it when they're not exerting a lot of energy, as it would be hard to purr and breathe heavily at the same time - their body would prioritize breathing

because of that, I really only see this happening if they are having slower sex, maybe something very intimate, or just lazy? like early morning sex or sleepy sex

really just anything slow, including giving and receiving head <33

That's all I have to say for now but I hope you enjoyed this because ☝ I certainly did

Masterlist here

#MY HEAD IS SO FULL OF PURRING HEADCANONS DUDE #this post will 100% be linked in my upcoming tiefling and rolan headcanon posts <3 #my hcs #my writing #if this flops I'm lighting myself on fire #serena the yap-atron 3000 #baby boy #bg3 #headcanons #rolan #karlach #zevlor #alfira #dammon #tiefling #fluff #smut #brainrot #hcs #x reader #x tav #tieflings #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3

[zorosbeau33]

Courting Gifts~ One Piece Omegaverse Headcanon Part 1!

Starring: Ace and Luffy! x gender neutral reader Genre: Fluff, sfw AU: Omegaverse, Omega Reader Wc: 1180 TW: Mentions of battle Masterlist~ Part 2~ Is ready! Thank you everyone for all your support! All characters involved in this fic are legal age or older in my au hope you enjoy!

This Goofy goofball knows exactly how to court. He gives me soft alpha/strong beta vibes. And he learned from Makino the ways to court long ago.

HOWEVER that being said, he also likes making you laugh. Courting gifts when it was just a crush were often goofy and maybe small inside jokes, or even mini pranks. 

Like a cupcake with sour flavored icing, still good but not at all what you were expecting. Boy did he giggle and laugh when your face puckered up with confusion.

Once he realizes these feelings are here to stay, or if you take initiative and heavily hint or gift him something. Then he gets sincere and downright smitten and soft

I hope you like the color orange, because he thinks you look so cute in the fuzzy luxury fur blanket with orange silk lining. Yes the fur has been dyed orange to match as well and you stick out like a sore thumb on this winter island but you're warm!

He is much more of a simple gift kinda guy, first sign is him not just sharing his food with you but getting a plate and filling it for you before looking after himself. 

He long ago memorized your favorite food 

He uses his devil fruit as a gift for you as well…yes in his mind warm hugs or warm handed deep tissue massages count as courting gifts. They're a promise from him to you he will take care of you forever if you allow him.

He has never understood collecting shiny rocks, seashells, and the like…until now. Something about courting makes every exceptional seashell and rock extra special now and if he thinks theyre pretty he will pocket them to give to you later.

“The way it shined reminded me of your eyes/smile”

He's much more of a physical show rather than buying gifts. So his presents may not be noticed immediately.

Giving you rides in his flame boat (he has to carry you so his flames dont set you on fire and boy does he love carrying you now)

Insisting on being the one to be paired up with you for anything and everything. From crew game night, to exploration parties, to mission assignments, even to his previously hated cleaning duties. 

Soft touches, on your waist, your hand. To help you get across a large gap (if he doesn't just pick you up). To reassure you if you’re expressing a moment of doubt/trouble. When he thinks your smile is especially bright and he just needs to touch your cheek to ensure you’re real.

 Or to push you behind him in times of danger or conflict, yes you can take care of yourself BUT he wants to be your support and fighter. He is first to cheer you on in a fight, but if he can prevent a needless dangerous encounter he will put himself in front so any animosity is directed at him not you.

When he realizes you might want clothes, or scented items he goes to Marco.

He understands the process, he gets how to scent something. However he wants his brother figure and the very honest bestie to help him judge which ones are best. He doesn’t want to over scent something and have it be oppressive. And he knows he’s rough on clothes so he’s making sure the things he’s giving you are good quality still so they’ll last as long as you want to keep them.

He also gives you a nickname, you’ve always had one but it was more of a teasing best friend kind of thing. Suddenly you have a much more dignified and polite nickname…its also a very classic 50’s romance sort of nickname like Doll, or Pumpkin, or Kitten…or Angel

Okay he’s alpha, if that wasn’t evident from his emperors haki and being captain etc 

Unlike his brother he is dumb…very dumb. Has never cared about courting a day before in his life. Used to say “EW” and stick out his tongue (even at 16)

He doesn’t even realize at first that the things he is doing is courting when he first starts. Probably because he doesn’t realize at first that he has feelings for you.

Robin did from day one, Zoro did maybe the first week, Sanji had suspicions too after a month or so, and the others later feel like they should have seen it coming since he constantly talked about how mouth-watering you smelled and loved to cling around you and just burrow in your neck to snuffle you. He learned not to nip when Nami yelled at him for it the first day he met you. Like I said the others feel they should have seen this sooner.

Giving you bits of his food, scenting you, constantly asking to hold your hand, and giving you every single cool thing he sees for you to “keep safe” but if you try to give them back he’d “no thanks you keep them!” then laugh and bounce off

Unlike what anyone would have expected Luffy figures out his emotions for you very quickly. It didn’t take Robins hints to him, he knew after you all finally got in a large altercation together against the world government or some pirates. He was always protective of his nakama, but before the enemy could land the devastating blow to your back in the battle. Luffy was screaming in rage. Bounding across the battlefield to you to protect HIS friend. His…ohhh…

He talked to Robin and Nami, they advised him on courting and how to make you his. He only grasped 30% but he’s trying

He would make the ship go broke in order to buy you every cool thing, or every soft nesting thing, or all the food you could eat. 

The king of bringing you random plucked wildflowers (several have been confiscated by Chopper as they were poisonous plants, Luffys eye for weird things haven gotten the best of him)

They're messy but he learns to make flower crowns for you both to wear. Talks about making them for your future kids

He didn’t used to own much clothing, but now he is expanding his wardrobe just so he can have more things that smell like him to wrap you up in.

You have exclusive hat permission, don’t abuse it but if you ever ask him, he does not mind putting it on your head for a while

He thinks you look so good in it too, makes him puff up his chest and yell to the world how awesome you are.

He has bought you one very nice present, one he had to work his butt off to get. Literally, Nami made him get a job on an island to pay for it and he was actually sincere while working there (sorry Baratie). 

It's a unisex gold bangle bracelet with a red ruby with your and his initials engraved in the gold along with the date you joined his crew (because yes he remembers the date perfectly)

#omegaverse headcanons #alpha luffy x reader #alpha luffy #one piece omegaverse headcanon #luffy x reader #luffy x gender neutral reader #alpha luffy x Omega reader #alpha ace #beta ace #alpha ace x reader #beta ace x reader #one piece headcanons #luffy x reader headcanons #ace x reader headcanons #luffy headcanons #ace headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece x reader headcanons #omegaverse one piece x reader #omegaverse one piece x reader headcanon #omegaverse luffy #omegaverse ace #omega reader

[mtchacffinz]

to be loved for you

prompt!!! Dan Heng never dealt with jealousy. He learns bitterly that sometimes, he can't deal with it rationally!

content!!! SFW, gn! reader, fluff, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, first kiss, clingy! Dan Heng

note!!! I love him too much. So far, all he's been getting from me is fluff 💔 frankly, i cant muster any freaky-freaky stuff with this man 🤔 got anything? my asks are open 🩷

To be someone who relied on relations by circumstance, you would always cherish each and every one of those who cross your path. May they be old and wise, or young and restless— Greeting them with the brightest smile, they'd always find themselves enamoured by your energy. Maybe this is why you attract so many people? Dan Heng was aware of that. He never spoke up about it, though. After all, he was one of the many who was caught bulls eye with each strum of his heart.

He knew you were capable of fending off threats yourself. He knew you were somebody who could defend someone from harms way.. and he especially knew just how gentle and kind you treat everybody.

Oh, what is he doing? Sulking all by himself in the archives. Dan Heng's thoughts ran rampant the past minutes. This happens when he's alone or sitting idly by. The poor man's thoughts catch up to him leaving him disgruntled. The thing is, you could always see it in his face.

You've been out and about for a while. He misses you, you know. Not that he would admit! Dan Heng's stubborn, just like that. He's definitely not mulling over how you're attention has been elsewhere, either. He doesn't mind. You have the freedom to do what you want! Just leave him sulking here in the archives unattended, it's okay.

The teal eyed prince clicks his tongue. That chatty, flirty, touchy writer. At first, Dan Heng thought that he was quite a man. The writer guy was nice and respectful with a golden gaze for things that were held high. That said, the Author quickly took interest in you.

He was never one to be possessive. Why should he? You're not even in a relationship. But sometimes, as soon as the guys hands find their way towards yours, intertwining in a clasp, something in him dims. Suddenly, his eyes can't leave your figure. It was your smile again, and Dan Heng's not at the receiving end of it.

You're not on the express today, either. A shame. Seriously, that guys been hogging you all week! What's up with that? Don't even get him started on "(Y/n), my muse. Accompany me today?" bullcrap! It's nothing but a sappy excuse to get into your pants so bad! Seriously, the absurdity. Dan Heng shakes off the thoughts before they continue. Did you know? Just by his gaze alone, someone could freeze in their place— like daggers against their back.

"Hmm? Mr. Ferr, are you okay?"

"It's nothing, my sweet, I strangely caught a shiver in my spine.." the author, Ferr, replied calmly.

"Okay. So about your first draft.."

Draft this, draft that, can't he got an editor instead?!

Irk marks basically float up his head just thinking about what they're talking about right now. Can you blame him? He's been neglected.

Dan Heng slaps himself, hard.

Woah. He's getting way ahead of himself. Him? Neglected? In what way? Again, it's not like you're both in a relationship. It's not like he's entitled to your affection in any way. Dan Heng really needs to calm down. Lately, all he's been doing is updating the archives. He's also learned of what you will be traveling for next, and added data with a note addressed to you as well. His calloused hands were flipping through various pages all day, pulling apart scrolls and wiping away holograms.

His thoughts become strangely quiet. His presence was like frost.. constant. A little chilly. He starts to fiddle with his fingers, his gloves, and his nails.

He really misses you a lot.

Can you come back soon?

Dan Heng sighs. He stands up with his impeccable posture as usual. Those arms held scrolls and books, and puts them back where he got them from. At this point, he's zoned out. He exits the Archives, strolling near the parlor car. Light footsteps echo throughout the space with Dan Heng taking in the air of tranquility within the express; It seemed like everyone had their own agenda today.

Well, except for one.

"Dan Heng," Himeko's sweet, gentle voice called out for him. The boy turned towards her, a little surprised. She smiles, and beckons him to sit with her. Her silky locks framing perfectly on her face, she put a stray strand behind her ear. "Come, I have coffee to share."

Dan Heng was indeed in dire need of indulgence. Without hesitation, he walked over to the red head and sat down. He forgot how comfortable the sofa was.. his nerves began to relax. Himeko starts to pour the hot beverages into elegant coffee cups, befitting if her style. It was comfortable silence, the stars glistened into glass windows— reflecting the beauty of life. Himeko seems to have noticed his aloof vibe, joining him to stare at the stars. Opening her lips, Himeko starts.

"You've been busy for a while."

"Being an archivist is a lot of work, huh?"

"I have."

"It's fine." The gentle lady can't help but chuckle. He's so dry. This only confirms her hypothesis. That daunting look on his figure may intimidate some, but not Miss Himeko. Never Miss Himeko. She doesn't want to expose her hidden agenda now, but she just can't wait to run her mouth. After all, Dan Heng's been down the weather and it's very obvious as to why.

"(Y/n) wanted me to prepare these for you. Enjoy them." She takes a sip. His expression softened. Dan Heng can't help but think bitterly. It'd be lovely if they were her to prepare these herself, but the teal eyed prince quickly take back the thought.

"I'm thankful.. but why? Is there an occasion? I don't seem to recall any." He speaks in a cautious manner. The woman only sighs, a palm on her cheek.

"Be honest with me, Dan Heng." Her tone quickly changed. Now her eyes are staring into his. Like it was rummaging through his soul. Dan Heng's feet were cold. He couldn't contest her gaze, so he averts his eyes. Himeko frowns at this, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Your eyes betray you greatly."

He was a little taken aback. His eyes? He was never expressive. He was sure he'd been called at least poker faced and stoic before.. Dan Heng's brows narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

Himeko only chuckles, dismissing her last claim. "I'll tell you what. They'll be here soon.. and they're going to leave just as quickly." She adds the last statement with dramatic disdain before the elegant lady takes a sip once again. Dan Heng's stomach drop. Ah.. he's lost the appetite to even finish his mug. Himeko continues. "Ferr is taking them to a space station for one of his projects. Given the current circumstances, they have no reason to refuse."

His face scrunched in annoyance upon hearing the name again. Mr. Ferr this, Mr. Ferr that! He's getting sick of him. Taking (Y/n) on a space ship? How long will that take? Is it some sort of rendevous? A date?

..will you come back?

"i don't think that decision befalls to us. (Y/n) is capable of making decisions.."

"I don't want them to go."

"..on their own because— wait, what?"

Himeko chuckles dryly. "I don't want (Y/n) to go, you know? It's selfish thought, I know. But, it's good to be selfish once and a while now, right?"

That was a half baked lie. First of all, Himeko fully supports what (Y/n) wants. But Ferr.. isn't exactly known for his patience. Himeko knows full well as soon as (Y/n) steps in the spaceship— he'd pull something like a proposal! A profession, a deal! She's not stupid, Himeko is far from dense. The Scientist knows that the Author has a huge thing for you, and it shows. And knowing Dan Heng? He'd just nod along albeit against it. She can't just stand here and let them distance each other! Himeko's seen it.. that prying gaze of a distraught, pining lover.. the watchful eyes of a lovestruck persona. The only way to get a stubborn man to act, is through tremendous pressure!

Dan Heng's lips pursed.

"And you want me to.."

"You don't have to, really."

"But.. if it will benefit them, should we encourage it? After all, they're energetic and knows their way with words. There must be some sort of good reasoning behind his invitation."

"I don't know. Do you want them to go?"

"I.." Dan Heng couldn't finish his sentence. He couldn't form a response at all. Does he want you to go? If you would enjoy yourself, he'd love to allow it.. If you'd return with a smile on your face, tell him all about what happened, he'd love to receive you with utmost sincere..

Even if it took atleast a hundred years for you to return to him.

...Hundred years his ass! You will not spend a hundred years with that man!

"If (Y/n) wants to, I personally don't see why not." Dan Heng's thoughts actively contrasted his responses. A stubborn man.. Himeko sighs, an apologetic smile on her lips. Finally backing away, the lovely lady puts down her mug and sits straight.

"It's okay to be honest. After all, they.. wish for something."

Dan Heng replies quickly in a heart beat. "I will be honest, then. I want their wish fulfilled."

"Then you better greet them in tip-top shape." Himeko winks saying this, standing up to excuse herself. Dan Heng tilts his head in this, not quite sure if what the she's implying. Himeko only had that knowing smirk on her pristine face. The lady excuses herself promptly, leaving Dan Heng all by himself. The man is once again left alone with his thoughts, except this time, he has new material to work with.

"Great..." He huffs bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just.. splendid." God, his head hurts. He's tired and he's drowsy. At this point, he doesn't find anything of urgency at the moment— only thinking about grasping that sudden warmth the sofa beneath him exerts. Dan Heng would like to find peace of mind at least once in a while. Both that in mind, his eyes find their way to the Parlor ceiling, half lidded and tired.

Slowly, his breathing calms down.. and slowly, his eyes drift closed, consciousness slipping away from his grasp.

Slowly.. the darkness embraced him, and his body rested in slumber.

You stand a little surprised.

After all, Dan Heng was casually sitting upright— his eyes closed. Is he napping? Is he okay? You're not sure, and you're concerned. Frankly, you were supposed to be here for him— feeling that he deserves at least an apology that you haven't been getting back to his messages in a while. But looking at the sight.. he looks like he's accompanied at the moment.

Such a hard working guard. The guard of the express, the unmatched Archivist of the Nameless.. the one who would always hold your heart gently. You swore if he blew air on your figure, you'd crumble immediately. The only one who'd sway your heart. That's how much power he holds, his whole fingers wrapped around your being with an invisible string keeping you binded to him.

You curb a grin. Strolling near your quarters, you pick up something warm. A blanket. You envelop his stature in a comfortable tuck, pausing for a moment to take in the melancholic state Dan Heng's exhibiting. The handsome prince's eyes fluttered closed, lips slightly apart. If he's sitting upright sleeping, then he must be atleast tired enough to sleep but still be on his feet.

But he doesn't know that, he doesn't need to.

"Ah.." was all Dan Heng could muster. You look back at him in a awe, but quickly recovered. You didn't remove his hands on your wrist, you held onto them instead. The archivists eyes softened, his brows relaxing. You attempt to give him a smile, defusing the tension.

Your sightseeing was cut short when Dan Heng started to stir, his eyes fluttering open. It was for a short moment, the first those greyish teal eyes found their way towards yours.. and the way they slightly widened upon meeting gazes with you, Dan Heng's slender, warm fingers slowly snuck their way toward your wrist; apprehending their movements further. Dan Heng held onto you like you were unreal, like you were unbelievable. Oh, he looks stricken. He looks.. almost as surprised as you. Dan Heng doesn't say anything yet, the blanket that was once on him fell off just a little while ago.

"Hey. Sorry. It looks like I woke you up.." You offer an apologetic smile. He quickly shakes his head at this, responding to you in haste.

"No.. no. Don't apologize."

"I have a lot of apologizing to do."

"No, you.." before he could finish, he cuts himself off. Why must he be so accepting? He keeps brushing his feelings aside, and before he knows it, he utters something he doesn't even mean. No, he's not okay. No, it's not fine. You upset him greatly. He couldn't focus on anything because you weren't answering his messages. Your phone was unreachable.

You had Dan Heng worried sick. What if something happened to you? You reckless, Trusting, thick skulled—

"Everything good?"

Your voice immediately snaps him out of his thoughts. Dan Heng let's out a small breath, his hands still clutching yours. He was still sitting down, and you were towering over him. God.. just by your gaze alone, he's already so full. If you could just stay with him a little longer, he feels like this churning in his stomach would go away soon. He wants you so bad, he needs you so bad.. he doesn't want you to let go anytime soon.

To your surprise, Dan Heng himself removed his hold on you. His movements were slow and languid, like a flow of water within the rivers. Moving in chorus, mellifluous.. elegantly. You can't take your eyes off him at all. Dan Heng clung to your waist. His warm body enveloped your lower half, nuzzling deep into your stomach. You let out a surprised yelp.

Suddenly, your face is hot. Your stomach was dancing with abundant butterflies, and you don't know where to put your hands. As if the archivist could read your mind, his hands led yours into his head, fingers entangling itself into those dark locks. They were so soft.. so warm and lovely. Your hands run through his hair gently— cherishing just how close he is to you at this moment. What's up with him? He seems to be a little more laid back.

Dan Heng shifts in his place. That's when he finally looks up at you. His arms around you, eyes looking directly at yours. You could see his expression.. eyes soft. Gentle. A slight pout— face flushed. It looks like he wants to say something, and it's still processing in that pretty head of his.

Dan Heng's hold on you tightens, you didn't fail to notice. He wants to be selfish for once. Let him be selfish for once. Just once. With a small breath and a soft tone, he finally utters.

"Don't go."

It was getting harder and harder to calm your heart down, and that didn't get any better.

Your heart immediately melts, and your knees almost gave out. What? Go where? Has the rumours already spread? Whatever it was, it's not happening. Especially if he asked you, it's already set in stone. "I won't. Not anywhere." You respond tenderly. Dan Heng's eyes lit up. You swore his fingers even twitched just a little bit. A little more after, his face suddenly scrunched. The archivists' frame was decorated with blazing hues of red. Whatever he's thinking seems to strain him so. Not even bothering to give you time to further analyze, he stands up from his seat, arms still around you. This time, you have no idea what'll he do. Dan Heng's eyes averted yours, hesitantly taking a step closer. My.. your palms are starting to sweat. This is the effect of anticipation.

When he pulled back from you, Dan Heng quickly analyzed your expression to see even a tinge of displeasure. Now you.. face decorated with the hue of peony, looked awe struck. Absolutely enchanted.. bewildered, blown. Gathering your nerves to work back up again, your eyes slowly trailed back to his nervous ones: awaiting your reaction.

"..You can hit me after this." Dan Heng suddenly says, making you tilt your head in confusion. So carefully, he cupped your cheeks. Whatever that was you were going to say was caught in your throat. There was a bubbling feeling in your chest, waiting to pop open; and as soon as his lips brushed past yours, it popped so beautifully vibrant it blinded your vision for but a moment. As your eyes fluttered closed and his eyes half lidded, he greedily drank the sight of you from his eyes.

Dan Heng's eyes widened once you grabbed his collar— smashing your lips back to his. The kiss you've given him burned with fervor, impatient, like you've been yearning for more. You were starved of his lips— like a lone hawk hunting for aeons.

Now that the opportunity presented itself, might as well make the most of it.

The archivist had a hard time keeping up with you, keeping the both of you straight by holding the small of your back. Your arms were in Dan Heng's chest— eagerly taking him in yours. By the time you both ran out of air, you were standing in amidst the parlor car— with the stars accompanying the moment being the sole witness. You could hear Dan Heng's heartbeat whilst you rest your head on his chest. Clutching his jacket, it was tempting to go for another one again.

There was silence. A lot of words hung out in the air. The first to cut through the already light air around you was you.

"For how long?"

Dan Heng breathed heavily, burying his nose into your hair. He thinks about it for a long time before finally answering.

"Quite a while."

i went a little overboard sorry! (⁠●⁠´⁠⌓⁠`⁠●⁠) edited it a lil bit

#dan heng fluff #dan heng x reader #dan heng #hsr fluff #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader